Coffee and Round Pastries Missing Their Centers
by nat13cat
Summary: Their is a certain substance in this galaxy that reduces Vulcan cortex capacity, and Spock accidently injests it. Kirk accidentaly grabs his hand and well... read and find out. WARNING: contains graphic vulcan hand porn
1. Drunk Off Misinformation

**Sprik all the way! **

It is a well-known fact that the Vulcan species is highly evolved against the effects of common depressants, stimulants and narcotics. That is why it is problematic to try to use these drugs when the said Vulcan is in extreme pain or it is necessary to go into emergency surgery. However, this skill is useful when in the drinking establishments of other species and challenged by an inebriated individual to see whose digestive system could process the most alcohol, since the Vulcan system could do this 75.32% more efficiently than the average human victory was almost assured.

It is a widely believed myth that the effects of _Theobroma cacao_, or the main in ingredient in chocolate, a perplexing substance that human females refer to "heaven on earth", which in of itself is oxymoronic, causes intoxication in Vulcans. The Vulcan council spread this myth in order to draw suspicion away from the actual substance that causes intoxication among Vulcans, quite a logical idea I must admit. The substance that does cause this, at a rate 19.31% faster than alcohol in humans, is _coffea pterocarpa_. This is an extremely common species of the _coffea_ genus, tasteless, and often used as a filler in grown coffee that had become an expensive, if useless, luxury throughout the known galaxy. This is why Vulcans normally avoided coffee, that and they found the drink distasteful. Personally, being half-human, the substance constructed by the simulator was neither disagreeable nor pleasant, though it did provide a short-term energy boost of 3.79% when ingested at high quantities. The product the replicator creates does not have the filler of the more expensive, grown coffee, and thus does not affect Vulcans.

This information, or lack thereof, is what led to the next chain of events.

"Mr. Spock, come with me," Said James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the enterprise for an exact total four months, 2 days and 13.7 hours. I did not find it necessary to reply, just simply nodded my head, and handed conn off to the beta shift. We had planned this meeting approximately 17.1 minutes prior to our departure from the bridge to discuss our current course of action. The door opened and we entered, and I took the seat next to the one the captain fell into the grace of a limping shuttle, with approximately 10.4% more force than necessary.

"Our current course is going to be a disaster Mr. Spock," Said Kirk, running his hands through his hair as he slammed his elbows on the table. I simply sat in my chosen chair and watched him rant while spinning in a most immature fashion. "This star pair is going to rip us apart. We can't take a detour around these god damn stars, and we can't alter warp now without missing our mark for mission arrival, and I can't get court marshaled again without getting suspended from the fleet! GAH!" he screamed in an extremely emotional display.

"Please be logical Mr. Kirk, the mission only has a 64.2% chance of failure," I say and pull out my PADD if only to placate him. "I will work on an equation for shield strength that could possibly allow for us to continue on our current trajectory." To my estimation, Kirk's eyes grew 1.5% in diameter.

"You'd do that for me Spock?" his voice had lost a few decibels since his previous outburst. He stops his ludicrous spinning along with dropping my preferred formality.

"It is the most logical course of action for this ship," I say and begin the early workings of the equation. His lips curl downwards as I propose a logical reason for me to create such a scenario. From then on, I mostly ignore Captain Kirk and precede to envelope my brain in the calm resource that is the standard number system. However, I remove just enough consciousness from the task to continue engaging my easily distracted superior officer.

"So," he says and begins his frivolously spinning again. I resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at the PADD.

"Yes Mr. Kirk?"

"Why don't I get us something to drink? It is time for a very late dinner," from the suggestive movement of his eyebrows, I assumed "drink" in fact meant an alcoholic substance.

"It is approximately 2:33:14 AM, Mr. Kirk," I replied to his statement in order to starve off the offer of a "drink". I found the poison most unpleasant.

"Oh," was his answer. "A very early breakfast then," and he got up from his seat and left the room. I sighed in reprieve of my emotional rigidity, his inability to remain still for an extended period of time was quite taxing on the small amount of consciousness I had allowed to remain in contact with him. At his departure I rescinded this offer, becoming totally engrossed in the work I had taken on in order to prevent his temporary suspension from the fleet. For a moment I found myself wondering if it would be more logical to in fact _have_ him suspended from his position, allowing-

That is a most illogical thought of jealousy. Vulcans do not feel jealousy.

At that point approximately was when Mr. Krik slammed a cup of dark brown liquid beside my left hand. In his own he carried a pot of the fluid, and in his right he balanced a plate with eleven circular pastries missing their centers and smothered in a fine white powder. A human delicacy commonly referred to as "Doughnuts" though he had never seen this particular variety before.

"Drink up Spock, you're gonna neeed it," he said without correct grammar. I eyed the cup suspiciously, then glanced up at Captain Kirk.

"Vulcans do not drink coffee, we find it unpalatable." I swirled the cup with the tips of my fingers.

"Well, I just thought because it is nearly three in the morning, and you haven't slept in what, four days? I know Vulcans don't need sleep and all, but you're half human, and you could use some energy," he said and plucked the top doughnut from the stack. I contemplated his reasoning, and found it sound. The caffeine in the coffee would most certainly aid in stimulating my neurons.

"It could not hurt," and I took a sip while returning to my work.

It was around the end of the fourth cup that I made my first miscalculation, and halfway through the fifth before I realized this error. It is extremely rare for me to make such a mistake, and I looked up to inform Kirk that something was wrong when the room span 65.3 degrees before my eyes, doubling the amount of my Captain previously in the room. When my vision stabilized I immediately forwarded my work to both Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov, they would be able to complete the calculations. I returned my gaze to Mr. Kirk with much less rotation when there was a suspicious sound emanating from his near vicinity.

I found my vision assaulted by the image of my captain allowing the full length of his fingers into his mouth, each covered by the powdered sugar, and then releasing them with a pop, licked clean. Heat flushed my face and the tips of my ears tingled, and had to resist the urge to cover them. In Vulcan culture, this was bordering on pornographic. Unaware of my gaze he continued, at one point inspecting his palm and finding it unsatisfactorily dirty. He then extended his tongue and ran it across his inner hand. I could stand it no longer and stood as quickly as my muscles allow, causing the chair to slam back into the wall and the room to spin rapidly once again. I lost my balance and managed to get out one word

"Jim," before I began to fall. A strong hand caught my wrist, and I was righted on my feet by James Tiberius Kirk. I remember nothing past him asking what was wrong in my official log. However, since this is not going to star fleet for registration, I tell you that I do have memory past that point. Vulcans do not lie; we imply.

"What's gotten into you Spock? Are you all right?" I ask and right the Vulcan, peering into his dilated pupils.

"Something is not right Jim," I start at the use of my fist name.

"Jesus, you just called me Jim," I say and take a step back. The Vulcan puts a hand to his forehead in an uncharacteristic show of distress.

"I- I am unsure what is occurring with my bodily functions. I have eaten nor drank nothing unusual recently, and have not taken any medications for the past … I do not recall exactly how long." his eyes went huge at that revelation, and mine must of too because boy, Spock not recalling something to the fifth decimal place is akin with Armageddon in my book. That is about when I remember something faintly from a class I paid someone else to do for me… that Vulcans got drunk off some filler in coffee. Not that replicator crap, but real grown coffee, the stuff I had recently dug out of my personal stash to make that pot Spock had drank nearly all of in the past two hours. I start laughing. Hey, when I'm stressed I laugh all right? It is not that I found my extremely uptight officer being smashed the funniest thing in the galaxy. I didn't really, because he still hadn't slurred a single word, or tried to get any one out of their pants. Just imagining Spock trying to get someone out of their pants made me laugh harder, until I was clutching my knees.

"What is it that you find so hilarious, Captain," his voice was like ice cubes running down my spine, but I still spluttered when I broke the news to him.

"Your plastered Spock," and I slapped his shoulder. Which of course caused him to stumble backward, trip on the chair, and his skull made a dangerous trail to smash itself open on the door frame. So I did the natural thing and grabbed his hand, pulling him back to his feet. Another random Vulcan fact surfaced in my brain. Hand-holding was equal to making out with all the plusses.

Spock's already enlarged pupils shot to the edges of his irises, turning his chocolate eyes black. A small sound escaped his lips, something between a purr and groan. I have to admit, it was pretty hot. I eased him back into the chair and sat down next to him.

"Jim," he muttered, holding out his hand. "Repeat that action." I smiled at his Spock way of begging for more. I didn't mind really, pleasuring my first officer had been on my mind for too long for comfort. He was the first and only guy, Vulcan, I had ever been attracted too. Well, excluding Bones that one time at that party… but I was so sloshed and he had been the closest thing with lips. For that I had gotten a beer bottle broken over my head. Damn neurotic doctors with southern sensibilities. But back to my hand make-out session with my first officer.

I took his hand in mine, lacing my fingers painfully slow through his own, making sure to brush a fingertip with each pass. His own hand twisted sideways and pulled back a little before pushing his fingers back through my own with another sharp twist. He bit his lip as I responded in kind, removing the locked fingers before curling them down under Spock's faintly olivine hand. I pulled his hand up to my mouth and straightened my own hand, forcing his fingers to straighten. Softly, as not to scare him off, I wrapped my lips around the tip of his index finger and flicked my tongue against the impossibly hot skin.

His eyes rolled up into his skull as he threw his head back and moaned. Spock, _moaning_. Let's just say I found myself incredibly turned on. So much so that I did just what I had seen him ogling at a few minutes ago with the doughnut. The texture differential between my tongue and his smooth skin just set him off, and he made the purring noise again. It rumbled up from his chest and flitted past his lips. Oh I had totally forgotten about those slightly green beauties. Just as I was leaning in though, Spock's eyes snapped open, and his back went rigid. He parted his lips slightly as if to say something extremely condescending about the state of my mental capacity for actually believing he wanted me to kiss him when I was shoved with such force into the wall I think I blacked out for a second or two. When I came around however, a set of lips were pressed to mine and moving softly against my own. I whimpered against him rather pathetically I admit. What? He was bruising my shoulders. He pulled away, and I trailed after him, trying to catch his lip in my teeth.

"Wa- was that to your satisfaction Jim?" he said, panted, though his searing breath tickled my nose. "I am not familiar with the exact science in human 'kissing'." I opened my mouth to tell him to shut up and kiss me again when the automatic door swished open.

"Aye Spock you in 'ere? Me and this kid got a question about your-" Scotty looked up from his PADD and saw Spock pressing me into the wall with our lips suspiciously close together and my hands tangled in his hair and his thigh pressed between mine. Too bad I couldn't pretend he was trying to kill me again.

Scotty's eyes got about as wide as saucers and he backed up, clapping a hand over Chekov's eyes, poor kid. He made a squeaking sound in Russian as the Scott shoved him out the door.

"Well, I'll leave ya too it then," his burr had gotten heavier in shock. The door closed again. Spock seemed to be in shock, stuck in the position he was in. I sighed and shoved his chest. I was surprised with the little amount of resistance. He toppled back in to the chair, a little pink around the gills. But instead of vomiting, his eyes fluttered close and he passed dead away into the land of the sleeping.

"Someone can't hold their coffee all that well," I said and began whistling, searching through the board room for a marker to draw on his face with. That is what he got for bruising my shoulders, and giving me a concussion, and being drunk when he kissed me instead of actually wanting it.

Pointy eared bastard.

**I wrote this after wondering late at night what would get Vulcans drunk and what would turn Vulcans on, so this is where I got. All the genus names are real, but what they do is totally made up. Also, I know how Vulcans really hand kiss with the two finger touch thing… but I felt it needed to be more erotic. See finger touching is like lip brushing, hand holding normal kissing, and my thing a version of frenching. Sorry about switching POV's halfway through but I felt kirk would be better for describing the second half since Spock has always come off as prude. **

**Well thanks for reading! Please Review! **


	2. When Vulcan's Get Frisky

Shore leave was great fun and all, especially with Spock around. No wait, I'm cracking myself up. That is so not true. Even after our little session when he was so smashed he actually wanted to graphically kiss me in a possibly public area, he never even acknowledged that it happened. I asked him in the afternoon, when he arrived exactly on time to Alpha shift, phrasing it exactly like,

"Do you remember anything about last night?" and his reply was

"Captain, I was severely intoxicated. I recall nothing after forwarding my results to Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov. Are you leading me to believe the rumors passing amongst the crew are true?" and there, with his incredulous eyebrow raise. You want to know what the eyebrow was saying? _Why, lowly human, would I ever allow you to partake in sexual activities with myself?_ Along with, _How could you possibly be so ill-advised as to imply rumors are indeed fact?_

"Goddam Vulcans," I said into my drink before drowning the rest of the fluorescent blue substance.

"Amen," said McCoy, drowning his own beer and raising his finger for another just as a young thing plopped herself on his lap. I turned away, jealously burning delicately in my throat. Of course we then have to land on the only planet ever that finds Bones hotter than me.

It was a lie anyway. Spock wasn't really here, he was back at the star fleet issued hotel, probably meditating or reading quantum physics textbooks for pleasure. I growled at the thought of Spock in bed, _without me_, and drained the glass just as it was set in front of me. The bar tender said nothing, she even smiled and leaned over the counter, displaying her ample cleavage for the world to see, her spotted skin a nice complement to her black dress. A human in a perpetual cat suit…

I don't really remember much after this point, except… well you'll see.

"What's wrong hun?" she purred, long nailed fingers trailing up his arm.

"A cat's stolen my tongue," he said in an effort to be his old suave self, taking her hand in his. This was a pleasure bar after all, even if it wasn't a full blow pleasure planet. She blushed purple, or it might just have been a sweeping strobe light, usually these types didn't blush.

"Not yet she hasn't," she smiled, revealing vaguely pointed teeth. She pushed him another drink, and he took it easily, the blue stuff didn't even burn anymore. As he put the glass down and like his lips, he watched the cat woman's eyebrows grow up and her ear lift a tiny bit upwards. She said something in the clipped tongue of her home world and two other kitties appeared out of nowhere, just as stunning as their partner behind the bar. There was a faint scratching down his sides and suddenly his shirt was gone, but he didn't really care because their hands were running all over his skin. Their leader leapt over the bar in a way that somehow managed to be hot, and she grabbed his hair in her hands and kissed him full on the lips.

Her taste was intoxicating, almost like and Orion but more primal, if that was possible. The music whirred in the background, thumping in his chest like a second heartbeat. He dimly realized his breath was coming faster than it should be, even considering what he was doing. She left his neck at his sudden pause in motion on her collar bone and kissed him again, making purring noises to egg him on. It worked, and suddenly he was in a chair and the other two were with him again, oh there was a forth now, what were they-

"Gah," he said and swatted ones teeth away, but they came back harsher than before, biting his skin and he arched up under the deft hands that pushed him back down. They weren't talking in standard anymore, but neither was he. It was all groans and moaning and that weird rumbling noise they made that vibrated their spotted breasts and he just couldn't help but wanting them, he was a man, wasn't he? At this point he wasn't really sure.

"Captain?" that was Nyota, out there in the dancing throng somewhere. He tried to turn his head to see her, but two hands grabbed his face and dragged him back. He didn't know if it was the original kitty or a different one, there were so many now. One bit his brow right above his eye, and he barely felt the pain among all the pleasure. Blood smeared across his cheek a rough tongue made its path across his face.

"Jim!" that was Bones. "Jim get the hell outta' that mess. They're teaming with – oh Jesus." Jim met his eyes and maybe he was freaked about by the blood or something, or maybe it was the new cut he had just noticed on his jaw. He turned and said something to Nyota, who was standing worriedly beside him.

"Jim, you need to get out, now," Bones had gone serious and was tugging at the nearest cat woman, who just sliced at him with her hand, and McCoy jumped away, hand bleeding as he shook it out.

"I don't wanna go," he managed to get out as he revealed his neck to the girls and felt their sharp teeth sink into his flesh.

Bones was panicked. There must have been some sort of pheromone in that poison Jim had been drinking and he had been having too much fun to check. It obviously powered his sex drive, and attracted these freak of nature cat people. Uhura handed him the communicator, having been unsuccessful at contacting security, all of which were probably having too much fun to be bothered with the life of their captain. So she had connected him to the one goddam goblin that would _not_ be having fun. Oh, and possibly a thick enough skin to drag Jim out of this mess.

"Spock," shouted Bones into the communicator.

"I did not expect you to be calling this evening," emotionless his ass. The smug was so thick with this bastard it could be woven into a sweater.

"Well neither did I. See the thing is Jim is being raped by maybe eight different vicious cat women with probably eight different STI's each and yet he seems to think it is all just great fun so we would appreciate it if you could get your pointy eared face and superior-to-all-humans complex here as quick as possible and maybe put your freakish strength to use!" McCoy realized he was being long winded, but he couldn't help it. Jim wasn't even visible anymore.

"I will arrive shortly," and then the connection went dead. McCoy was dumbstruck. He expected a tirade about some shit or another but not just blind acceptance and was that a hint of anxiety in Spock's voice? It must have been the music messing with his hearing. Uhura had grabbed one of the hypos from his bag and had jabbed the top cat woman with it, but that just made the bitch angry and she spun on Uhura, swiping with her claws before shoving the entire mass of bodies to the floor. They heard Jim shout and Bones snatched the needle from the woman before she could cause more damage. The cat woman she had hit staggered off before collapsing in a heap on the floor, who was immediately taken advantage of by a male cat man.

Christ, his life was messed up.

The club in question was a 10 minute walk from their hotel, so when Spock showed up barely four minutes after Bones had called he knew he had run all the way there, though there wasn't a drop of sweat on him and his breathing was perfectly even. The Vulcan was easy to spot as he entered the club, as he was the only one who looked bored to death. The freakish thing was as he walked across the floor towards Bones and Uhura, the dancers parted for him like he was Moses. Bones had practically had to bash in heads to get through the throng. Green-blooded goblin. How had he even seen them from across this place? It was nearly dark and massive. There were no time for questions though, Jim's cries had lost some of the pleasure.

I arrived approximately 3.9 minutes after Leonard McCoy's distress call. At first, I had believed it to be a prank. However, after I picked up Jim's frequency amongst the transmission, I knew it was necessary for me to intervene. I was glad I had made the decision I did. Uhura and McCoy appeared terrified in an obvious display of emotion. When I saw the situation Jim Tiberius Kirk had managed to get himself into I understood why.

Spock was quick to throw himself into the mass of bodies, and he shoved off the freakish women as if they were nothing more than neighborhood catholic school girls. They fell to the floor with stunned expressions, but got right back up and attacked the Vulcan, claws tearing his clothes but not his skin. Finally Spock got to Jim, and pulled the lip sucker from his mouth. At the sight of his bloodied friend, Spock nearly faltered. Jim's lip was split, there were cuts all over his face and blood was smeared across his collar bone. Bruises made his skin look like the spotted menaces that attacked him. He leered at Spock, revealing teeth that flashed green in the rotating colored lights.

"Heya Spock," he said, head lolling against the floor. He was severely intoxicated, that much was certain.

"Captain, we must leave immediately," said Spock as he grabbed the neck of an approaching female. She feel to the floor, unconscious.

"Nu'un Spock," he said and kissed the nearest girl. Then he got this frightening gleam in his eyes and made his request. "Unless you kiss me better than they all have." Spock swore he heard the Captain wrong.

"Jim, we do not have time for this. You are in great danger," the Captain pouted.

"I am not going anywhere, or will fight you the whole way, unless you kiss me better than they did," Spock swallows, and looks into blue seriousness. Swallowing, he shoves away a spotted deformity and grabs a violently purple drink right out of a Romulins hand. The alien screams and turns toward him, sees his eyebrows, and high tails it into the crowd. He would never be able to do this totally sober.

McCoy is watching all this with wide eyes. Not only did the Vulcan just dispatch maybe twelve cat people seemingly without thought, he scared a Romulin off with just a look. A look! Now, as he downed the drink in two or three big gulps McCoy was even more impressed. That stuff was a synonym for paint thinner. Bones was a little confused as to why Spock had come out without Jim mind you, but he watched in fascination as Spock drove back into the throng. That was nothing special.

What almost knocked him out with shock was when the kitties moved enough for him to get a clear look at Jim. And Spock. Or was it Spock and Jim? It was hard to tell they were pressed so close, and they each appeared to be on the edge of brutally swallowing the other.

Jim had never known Spock was such a good kisser. Back in the meeting room he had merely gotten a sampling of his first officer's abilities. He tasted like fresh mint and was impossibly hot on his tongue. He was deliciously ferocious, all quick twists and demanding lips. Jim's sharp pants cut through even the blasting music, and his first officer pulled himself farther up on Kirk, dragging his body along the Captain and curling his neck. Kirk moaned into his lips, but nearly cried when the man pulled away with the sound only lips disconnecting can make.

"Was that satisfactory Captain?" God he was sexy. Though Spock did not wait for an answer as he hefted the captain into his arms. The cat people dispersed into the crowd with wary glances and lolling tongues. Jim cried out as his arm was jostled, realizing it had probably broken when the mob had dragged him off the chair and landed on top of him.

"Report to communication. We must return the Captain to the Enterprise immediately."

"Amen," Said McCoy and handed Uhura the communicator. He was going to pretend he hadn't just seen that.

**Hello again! I was surprised at the feedback from last chapter, I can't believe this story is so well liked! A slightly more serious chapter this time. Sorry about all the POV swithcing, hopefully it was not too confusing. However, the rating is a bit… tipsy. What do you think? T or M? Anyway, tell me what you think! Please review and thank you for reading!**


	3. Attack of the Rainbow Goo

**Hey! Thought I'd do this in the beginning this time! I thank all of you for your support, your story alerts, your story favorites, and your readership. I love you who reviewed! I wish it was more but hey, a girl can't have everything. Warning, there is torture in this chapter. Not sexual torture, but full blown pain in the name of merely causing pain. **

_WHEN YOU READ THIS CHAPTER, YOU MUST LISTEN TO__** JUDAS (DJ WHITE SHADOW REMIX).**__YOU WILL NOT GET THE LAST HALF IF YOU DO NOT LISTEN. YOU WILL PROBABLY HAVE TO PLAY IT TWICE TO COVER THE WHOLE TIME IT TAKES TO READ. _

**Thanks for listening to me ramble! Enjoy!**

"Because James Tiberius Kirk, I do not 'hook up'." Those were the last words his Commander had spoken to him. Not in reality, in between there had been a few yes sirs and no sirs and of course captain, but that did not count. No, those were the last words Spock had said to him in a real conversation. Now, well, Jim feared those were the last words Spock would ever say to him. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The Enterprise had been the lucky ship to first come upon a planet possibly suitable to replace Vulcan. Well, not replace Vulcan, but start up a colony. A colony Spock had chosen not to live in. He was only getting away with it because he was half human, even if he had wanted to stay at star fleet, if he had been a pure green blood they would never have allowed it. He would never have joined star fleet in the first place if he was pure green blood, so then he would… ah the paradoxes were hurting his head. They all seemed to end up with Spock dead, and Jim did not want to think like that. Especially, for the first time since Spock had tried to kill him on the bridge (and would have succeeded too) or had gotten drunk in the meeting room there was_ life_ in those dark brown eyes. So what he had not spoken to Jim for real since Jim had offered a quick fix after five too many drinks. That did not matter.

Firm white hands clasped behind a blue clad back and pointed ears poked up through jet black hair as the desert planet revolved before the view screen.

Jim had called a landing party, himself, Spock, Sulu, Bones just in case, and some ensigns whose records looked good but he had never met personally. They beamed down without incident, Spock merely nodding to Jim in acceptance of his assignment.

The planet was hot, unbearably so, and they were all sweating bullets. Even Spock had a faint sheen of sweat on his face after a few moments in the atmosphere. Too near the equator then. After fixing that with a few 'I told ye soes,' from Scotty they were approximately where the tropic of Capricorn was on Earth. A massive purple lake stretched for miles on their left, and after sampling it, the composition was found to in fact be water, the coloration was just from bacteria and the reflection of the faintly purple atmosphere. There were a few clumps of scruffy dead plants that could not possibly be edible. Spock examined the spiny plant with his fingers, not even picking up the tricorder. He stood slowly and turned to the team. Spock's jaw went a little loose and he blinked twice. Twice. If he had been human, he might as well have been whooping and dancing the Irish jig. Then Jim said the stupidest thing he had so far.

"Well, things seem to be going well," and that is when things stopped going so well.

They rose from the lake; bruise colored flesh coated in pink ooze. Vaguely humanoid though slight smaller than the average person, standing around five feet five inches. Their eyes were all violet with gait cat pupils, and he had a not so fuzzy feeling about their intentions. Especially when they sprang from the purple water like feral dogs and attacked them with razor claws and teeth. That wasn't the weird part though. The strange part was how easy they were to break. Freakishly strong and sharp, probably poisonous, but when Jim shot one in the head with his phaser, its skull liquefied. The thing had only been on stun, it was not his fault! When one attacked, Spock had made the mistake of tossing it off by its neck. The creature's neck squelched out around his fingers, the body turning to pulp when it hit the dust. Spock looked at his own hands in horror.

He stopped fighting after that, though they kept coming from the lake and holes in the ground. It was like a small army of animated glop. Jim lost sight of his crew for a few moments, taking out the mass of pink, blue and purple goo. Suddenly, with a collective sigh, they melted back into the lake and into the tunnels, gone just as fast as they had appeared. Then, to Jim's utter horror, they were three en-signs short.

And Spock was gone.

Nothing much exciting happened after that. Jim screamed his Commander's names a few times; fell to his knees in despair. Bones slapped him upside the head with a 'Good God man,' and they came up with a plan to rescue Spock. And the en-signs of course.

So now he found himself crouched high up in a small vent tunnel, looking over a giant underground cavern filled with the goo people. There, at the raised dais at the back of the cavern stood a human swathed in white robes. He was chanting in the native tongue, all gargling vowels. It was peculiar. Why would a human be on this planet, even if he was the leader of an entire race?

Speaking of the goo people, they seemed slightly more advanced. They wore clothes now, and bits of metal glinted off their skin from painfully faint blue light from the ceiling. They all wore wicked grins, and their eyes glinted in malice. That made him fear more for Spock than he already did.

His commander was strapped to a metal table in front of the human priest, arms and legs spread wide. It would have been sexy, had his life not been bet on the distraction his team came up with and Jim's aim while bungee jumping. That's when the music started. Strangely reminiscent of the many techno clubs he'd been in, it was electronic. It shook the entire cavern with its base and thrum. A basic clapping started up in the crowd as they began to writhe to the music chanting in the process. It was almost choreographed in its ghostly clarity. Then, the strings started. It was so much like a human orchestra, it was terrifying. Every time they hit an intense part, a spot light would go on, illuminating a terrified ensign, whose head would tumble to the dirt. Jim gasped, but the crowd did not hear him over the new chanting going on. There was a faint reprieve before the real horror started. What gods could want something like this?

A spot light hit Spock, and Jim's muscles clenched. A beat went up, a sound like an ominous and powerful bum bum bum bum bum bum bum ba-da-da-da dum bum bum and it repeated. At first Jim wasn't sure exactly what it was, but when he looked down at Spock, all his doubts were washed away. It was the sure fire sound of electricity, of electrocution. Spock's back arched up as he watched, his beautiful brown eyes rolling back in his head. He stayed conscious though, even if Jim wished he had fallen under, for Spock's sake more than his own. He didn't make a sound the first few times, but even Vulcan's have pain receptors.

If you have never heard a Vulcan scream, then you have never witnessed a torture that rips apart the very soul. The sound set Jim's teeth on edge, all the hairs on his arm stood up. Shivers rampaged up and down his spine. It was nothing like a human scream. Not at all. Humans screamed when they saw spiders, humans screamed when someone insulted their clothes, humans screamed when someone they loved died. Vulcans never lose the monotone in their voice, even when their planet has just been destroyed and their mother murdered.

To hear one scream like there was nothing left but firing neurons and the air leaving their lungs, it was terrifying.

Spock screamed again, and Jim watched sparks of electricity dance across his Starfleet badge. Any human would be dead by now, there was no question. Spock was still conscious, or maybe the stimulation was preventing his brain from shutting down. The crowd was shouting and stomping their feet in time to the beat and Jim was sweating, grinding his teeth to a fine powder. If that distraction didn't start soon, Spock was going to die. And die in agony.

His team burst in through the back doors, phasers blazing. The creatures turned to mush, puddles splashing. The priest man looked confused, but he didn't stop. The beat kept going, and Spock's chest jerked upward each time. Time to go.

Jim took a few steps back, ran and leapt off the ledge, black cord trailing behind him. He had calculated just how many steps he would need to take, and how many seconds of free fall before the cord would kick in, how many second after that he would have de thatched the mechanism or be smashed against the rocks in a different color of goo.

Calculating and doing were much different things, as Jim had known it would be. However, his adrenalin was so high everything went smoothly, for once. He came to a complete halt, and before he snapped back up, the bungee was gone and he dropped a foot to the ground. Now the priest was screaming, surprisingly in standard. Jim didn't take the time to see what exactly he was saying. Blam, down. Wait, that was stun. God damn it, he knew he'd forgotten something. No time to kill him, later. Spock was not even screaming anymore, and just the whites of his eyes were showing, his mouth open wide. Death was so close you could practically smell it. Or maybe that was burning muscle.

Jim slammed the silver button on the side of the table and the electricity died. Spock laid their twitching, eyes finally closed. Jim cut the straps, not having the patience for the buckles. Spock's prone form choked him up, and then Bones was there.

"Is the… oh god damn his green blood, he's still alive," and the southern doctor jammed a hypo into Spock's neck. For the first time Jim noticed a thin cut trailing from Spock's temple to jaw, bleeding faintly. What had they done to him here? How could they have made him scream like that?

Spock's eye lids jumped, and then he jolted up, grabbed Jim's arm in a grip that had to be cracking bones and began talking. His whole body was shaking.

"Saseshau kusut, Saseshau kusut, Saseshau kusut…" he kept repeating it over and over and over and from the very little Vulcan Jim knew, it had something to do with begging to save him from the pain. McCoy swore colorfully and jabbed the man with yet another hypo. Jim just kneeled there, eyes vacant and empty. He had failed Spock, or the jittering mess that had once been Spock. Slowly he lays the side of his face on the cold table, tracing the wrinkles in Spock's uniform with his finger. The man's breath is coming in rapid gasps, his chest a near blur. His heart is beating probably five hundred times a minute and Jim can't even feel it. He's failed Starfleet, he's failed his team, and he's failed Spock.

"I'm sorry Spock, I'm so sorry," Jim chokes out, but Spock doesn't seem to hear.


	4. Pointy the Pink Roller Skating Unicorn

**Yeah I'm a downer. I just re-read that last chapter and I'm like 'I put this story under humor? What?' but anyway, this chapter will hopefully bring some lightness back into this fic. It's the after math of the electrocution incident, and it involves Bones and Chekov, and together they are just so easy to poke fun at. And Spock's pov is back! Yay! **

**I thank all those who have taken the time and effort to read this story which I am writing in lee of studying. I give special thanks to those who have favorited, or put it on alert subscription. However, those who have reviewed, I love you more, just because you reviewed. So if you want extra credit love, review please! **

Exiting my healing trance was an arduous, involved process that takes time to be delicately and correctly. So when I was jerked into consciousness by the elevated voices of James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy, it was a disorienting experience. At first their sentences held little coherency, but after 3.6 seconds of elevated concentration, their words gained sagacity.

"Damn it Jim! You need to _sleep_ before you go into a _god damn comma_. He is not going to be waking up any time soon," That was Dr. McCoy.

"But Bones," that distinctly whining voice was most definitely Jim. With monumental effort, I opened my eye lids to take in the sight of a nearly deserted medical bay. The Chief medical officer's back was facing away from me, and Jim's face was visible over his shoulder. It broke out in a wicked grin the second our eyes met. "He's already awake."

"Don't you lie to me you idiot, even that immortal pointy eared bastard could not…" he trailed off as he turned around to face me. I was indeed conscious, but had lacked the strength to alert him of this development. The doctors eyes enlarged by 2.1% and he spoke in breathy tones. "Well slap me in a dress and call me Jesus, you're awake."

Jim grinned wolfishly at this euphemism and replied, "Can I make good on that arrangement?" I must admit his grammar was atrocious, but the cursing Dr. McCoy imposed seemed to be overdone per the situation.

"Shut up and let me do my work, idiot. Now Spock, can you hear me?" I followed his movements with his eyes to alert him of my state of awareness, though at this time I was still unable to speak. "Spock can you speak? Blink twice for no," I blinked slowly and deliberately so his human senses would be able to assume that I had heard him. He swore again. "Is it brain damage, or you just not fully rewired yet? Blink once first answer, twice second answer." I blinked twice. He sighed and collapsed back in a chair. "Thank god. I'm no brain surgeon, but sometimes I can make an exception. I'd be outta my league in your pointy eared skull," I ceased to pay attention to the doctors ramblings and instead focused on my Captain staring intently at my face.

"Are you all right Spock?" his voice was sincere. "Will you be all right?" I nodded my head, the action taking 119.7% more effort than usual. A brilliant smile lit up his face and the excessive effort was worth it. Jim took my hand in my own and slipped his fingers between mine. It wasn't sexual, merely a sign of reassurance. For it, I am grateful. The doctor was suddenly clutching Jim by his ear in a manner that would have been humorous, had Vulcan's found such things humorous.

"Come on idiot. You got your wish, Bastard's awake. Now you need to go to your quarters and sleep or so help me god I will sedate you until the universe implodes, ya' here?" It was my observation that when agitated, the doctor's accent grew 33.1% more pronounced. As the Captain was dragged away, Jim spoke,

"Don't listen to Bones; he was worried sick about you," and with a few muttered profanities Dr. McCoy managed to shove the Captain out the door. Then he turned back to Spock, eyes a little softer.

"You're lip reading aren't you?" One blink for yes. "God damn, how are you even alive?" I determined the question was not worth a response. He didn't say anymore as he approached me with a hypospray at approximately 1.43 kilometers per hour. He injected my neck with the medicine and I was quickly swept into unconsciousness.

I awoke to turbulence in the ship. The enterprise rocked heavily to the side, and klaxons were blaring, though this was assumed for the amount of stimulation through the ear canal was only at 8.92% of optimal sensitivity. The red lights were enough. McCoy was screaming something unintelligible, even perceptible with my lack of working receptors. Lights were flickering at 30%, and grease and oil were smeared across the casualties. I am sad to admit some has faces covered in white shrouds, a symbol of human death. I closed my eyes, and tried to find blissful unconsciousness again. It was a task that was 76.01% easier than it should have been.

I awoke to a much quitter medical center. However, it was not nearly as desolate as it had been the first time I awoke. The beds were populated with the bridge crew in various states of blood saturation and disillusion. Obviously they had been injected with pain medication with the side effect of hallucination. This was most apparent by their language.

"Bo-ones," Jim sang in a key that caused neural damage. "I have a quest-tion."

"Yes?" Hissed an extremely irritated doctor.

"Do you know why the horse is talking to me?" Leonard's fist cracked the glass he was holding. He was exerting a force ten times stronger than necessary. There was not an Animal of earthly origin in the sick bay.

"No Jim, I do not know why the horse is talking to you." He pushed Checkov down on to the operating table for the second time. The boy had been pressed flush against the doctor, burrowing his nose into the doctor's neck. He mumbled something unintelligible in Russian.

"It's a unicorn!" shouted Sulu in epiphany. There was the definitive sound of a palm smacking a forehead.

"Duh," said Uhura.

"Why is it Pink?" That was the Captain again. "Why is it talking to me? Bo-ones!" That caused me to focus my attention back on the doctor, who was still trying to restrain Private Chekov.

"Kid, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. In the end, it's still gonna hurt you more than it's gonna hurt me," this didn't seem to dissuade the private. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck for the sixth time and purred,

"Iv it is all ze same to you, I'd prefer ze hard way," his paper gown rumpled in a way that made McCoy's skin darken 2.3 shades.

"Shut up, God damn it," and he began removing the projectiles from Private Chekov's lower back. "I can't wait until the pain meds knock all you idiots out."

"It _hurts_ doctor," groaned Chekov and he squirmed.

"That is what she said!" Jim shouted at no one in particular. Then he broke into a fit of girlish laughter. "It is pointy!"

"Where did you get those roller skates, Pointy?" Asks Uhura to the non-existent, pink, '_unicorn'_.

"Chekov, you've got to stop," the doctor sounded increasingly desperate. I turned my head to view the private in an extremely compromised position. My eyes met the doctor and he swore through the attacking lips of the boy. He jabbed the freckled neck with a hypospray and pushed the suddenly limp body aside. Then he chose a needle from seven options and approached Spock.

"I saw you suck Jim's face. You saw Chekov…" The doctor trails off. "Basically, we saw nothing. Got it?"

"I understand what you are implying." The doctor takes a note from Jim in his grin.

"Good," and the needle is jabbed in my next once again. The last thing I hear before unconsciousness returns is,

"Bo-ones, is my Spockalishious 'wake yet?"


	5. Who Knew Glue Was So Fascinating

**I'm a lunatic, judging by the last chapter. Now I need to try and come up with something funny for this chapter, but am out of ideas. Maybe if I stare at the wall for a while something intelligent will burst out of my brain and scream YES! That's it! (Jim is in denial, warning)**

James Tiberius Kirk was staring at the wall for no particular reason other than to not look at the Vulcan standing in front of him. Faint memories of referring to him as 'super hottie' and 'spockalisious' surfaced in his brain and he shivered with indignation. Bones knew what those med's did to him.

"Captain," the clipped tones reached his ears and he was forced to look at the Vulcan.

"Yes Mr. Spock?" he replies while refusing to let himself blush.

"I appear to be immobile," it was such a surprise Jim forgot all about his embarrassment.

"What?"

"It seems that I am unable to move," he had dumbed it down for Jim, there was no mistaking it.

"Like, your brain isn't connected to your limbs?" Said Jim, panic rising. Had there actually been brain damage from the torture the Vulcan suffered?

"More like someone glued him to his chair," said Sulu, who was feverously tugging at Spock's arm with no other avail than to pop on of the seams on the shirt. It appeared as if Spock was stuck impossibly well.

"It's not my fault! I swear!" said Jim to no one in particular as he approached the situation.

"Not this time," Uhura muttered under her breath before getting up to go join the gathering crowd situated around a peeved Vulcan.

"Fascinating. It appears to be an extra strength affixitive from engineering that compaensates for my superior Vulcan strength within its compound," said Spock rather unhelpfully as his muscles tensed. Jim watched the tendons flex in that elegant neck hungrily before shaking his head viciously. He was on the bridge goddam it; he couldn't get boned just by watching Spock's _neck_.

"Well call Scotty then!" he shouted to no one in particular. A communications officer scrambled over to the console and punched in Engineering. They got a blank screen. They tried locating Scotty's position, nothing. That didn't mean much, the computers could be programmed not to show your location. That wasn't what was frightening. What was really freaking everyone out was that none of the engineers' signals were showing up. And no one would answer their communicators. Jim took control of the situation, for although he was a bit of a slut and a trouble maker, he was a genius and a great leader. McCoy would kill you if you ever said that to his face though, saying Jim's ego would inflate so much it would crush all his other vital organs.

"Okay everyone, something very strange is going on here. Split up into teams and go investigate, and com back any information you find. I'll stay here with Spock and try to get him out of his chair; we'll help once the issue is resolved."

"Yes sir," was the chorus as everyone fled the bridge excluding Jim and Spock.

"Do you believe it was the most logical choice to send the entire bridge crew on a 'wild goose chase'?" once again, Jim can hear the air quotes. With monumental effort Jim managed to raise one eyebrow in imitation of Spock.

"Would you prefer the entire alpha shift see you half naked?" That did get an eyebrow raise.

"I fail to fathom your meaning."

"I'm going to cut you out of your clothes. There is no other way you are going to get out of that chair. I've used that type of glue before, got my fingers stuck together when I was a kid. They had to cut them apart with a _laser_." Jim grinned wickedly. "Come on, it'll be fun." Spocks face remained impassive as ever, though did he catch an eyelid twitch in the left corner?

"I highly doubt the amusement of this activity." There was silence at the two stared at each other. Squinting azure eyes bored into blank coffee ones. Finally, there was a slight woosh of air from the Vulcan's chest. "I will abstain if you bring a change of clothes from my quarters to the bridge." Jim heart did _not_ give a little kick at the thought of going into Spock's quarters. To play up his _not_ excitement he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Prude," then he perked up, winked, and trotted off to the lift.

Spock's quarters were right next to his own, there shared a bathroom and stuff, but Jim had never actually been in Spock's room, nor actually seen Spock's room. As a matter of fact, he doesn't remember ever seeing Spock use their adjoined bathroom. Weird. Kirk sang out the override code when the door told him he was not allowed in. He swore the computer groaned as the door swished open. It must have been his imagination.

Speaking of weird, Spock's room pretty much covered that. It was extremely hot, like 100 degrees or something. The air was wickedly dry, and Jim began coughing as he entered. The walls were a dark maroon and the bed spread was a deep chestnut. There was very little decoration except for what was now most likely a priceless Vulcan vase, a gold colored ornamental pillow on the bed, and a small picture on the night stand. The lights were set on barely ten percent and the room smelled wonderful. Like cinnamon and something darker. Red wine? The mediation mat was neatly rolled and stored under one of the two small chairs in the room.

If Jim didn't already love Spock, he would of when he stepped closer to the picture on the table. In it were two stoic, unsmiling faces and one bright and cheery grin. It was young Spock, probably around eight, his father, and his mother. Though in their weird, dysfunctional way the picture looked… happy. Jim had never had the chance to see Spock's eyes like they were in that picture, lit up with life. In that moment Jim recalled how broken Spock must be, and how well he hides it. Jim shook his head and jumped into action. He opened Spock closet and tugged out one of the hangers that held the science blues. It was a little freaky how precise everything was in the closet. All the shoes were lined up perfectly, and each flawlessly pressed shirt was hung above faultlessly folded pants. Even the socks were folded and stacked. This was _not_ hot, this was _not_ hot… Jim grabbed the shirt, pants, and shoes. Somehow he just knew Spock's shoes would be glued down too.

Jim returned to the bridge to find Spock meditating. He had to be, because when he called his name faintly he did not respond. Taking matters into his own hands he snapped his fingers below the Vulcan's nose. Two big brown eyes blink open, bleary fore barely a millisecond before sharpening into cool arrogance. Jim was _not_ turned on by the gentleness that had been there moments before.

"You took 21.1 minutes to take a lift down a floor, walk twenty paces, remove my clothing, and return?" Spock would have been leering, if Vulcan's leered.

"Oh, so you don't want my help?" Jim said with a fake pout and dropped the scissors he was carrying on Spock's lap. "Get yourself out then." Spock glared at the scissors, if Vulcan's glared. Then he did something Jim wished he hadn't done. Spock bit his lips, turned his face up to Jim and somehow altered his face just enough that his chocolate eyes turned black and _smoldered_.

"I apologize if I have offended you, I was merely making a statement," Jim's knees went a little wobbly at the tone of Spock's voice. No, he was not going to let him off that easy.

"Sure you were," says Jim as he prowls around the chair, and Spock licks his lips again, following Jim with those eyes. When Jim is behind him, he leans his elbows on the back of the chair. Hit by a burst of inspiration and the vague knowledge that a Vulcan's ears are erotic, Jim take the tip of Spock's ear in his fingers. He laughs silently as he watches all the muscles in his first officers back tense up.

"Oh Spock," Jim breathes into his other ear as he rubs his thumb in small circles. "What am I going to do with you?" it wasn't supposed to sound as dirty as it did, but it worked to Jim's advantage. Ever so faintly, he could make out the gentle pants that were crossing his beautiful first officer's lips. He began working both ears and grinned when Spock tried to squirm.

"Captain I do not believe that this is-" and Spock stopped talking in wake for something else. See, Jim had leaned down over Spock, snaking his eyes around so they could look at Spock's face when he did it. Then, he ever so carefully wrapped his lips around the tip of Spock's ear. All his words were cut off as his eyes flutter closed and his soft lips parted in a tender, round, o. A small noise escaped those lips, almost a gasp but not quite a moan, and a rumbling bubbled up from the Vulcan's chest. He was purring. Jim was at the point of no return. How embarrassing would it be to get expelled from Starfleet for raping his first officer when such first officer was glued to a chair. His hands worked quickly with the scissors, turning the blue science shirt into a jacket and tearing through the pants. Spock watched him and didn't speak until he pulled away.

"I'd prefer it if you turned around," says Spock. Jim sighs something about being prude and turns away.

"Hurry, they'll be back with a report soon." Jim didn't really mind being forced to turn away. See, when in sleep mode the navigation's console is a very shiny black almost like a mirror. So next to two blue eyes a Vulcan was standing up. Jim's eyes were riveted to the sight. Long lithe arms revealed themselves from the blue, and then a slender but muscled chest was next. Green nipples, how striking. Next were a set of narrow boned hips, but the rest was hidden under regulation black. Oh, and that whole thing about Vulcan's only gettin' in the mood every seven years? What Jim was seeing proved that bullshit.

Spock wasn't wearing any socks, revealing ankles with strong tendons attached to elegant feet. Can ankles be sexy? Is that possible? Spock's skin definitely was. Pale with the faintest tint of green, he screamed erotic exotic. At least in Jim's mind, which was doing some dirty little dancing that involved… well you can guess but there was leather straps and an old fashioned bed. With grace and ease the Vulcan clothed himself. Jim wanted to take those clothes right back off, but he didn't get the chance to tell him so. Just as Spock was pulling his shirt over his head Chekov and Sulu appeared in the lift.

"Is everyzing all right Keptain? Ve vere calling but no von vas peeking up," say Chekov as he walks in behind Sulu. Sulu's jaw falls down a little bit when he sees his captain leaning over a console, arms tense and breath coming in short little gasps as his first officer hastily finishes adjusting his shirt. He slaps a hand over Chekov's eyes and the poor kid squeaks, "Not again!" before dragging the Russian out. "Vaht vere zey doing? Making out again? Everybody knows ze Keptain loves kamandor-" another hands covers Chekov's mouth and the lift doors close.

"Captain it appears that the engineering crew are all where they are supposed to be, it seems someone froze the communications screen and blanked out all their signals on purpose…" Uhura crackles over communications

Jim looks at Spock, turning to deny everything when he slips on something and goes sprawling to the floor, but not before cracking his head and falling unconscious. So it was going to be one of those days…

**So hey! Just want to say I love my readers and reviewers and those who favorite and alert and all that juicy stuff. But please, I need more reviews! So many people are reading, but I have maybe 13 reviews. It makes me feel kinda… bad. Do you not like my story? Am I being too pushy? You don't have to say much! Just type one word or even a and I'll love you forever! Special thanks to**

**Jessica499499**

**DeusExMachina1**

**Apie**

**For their wonderful reviews last chapter! **

**Who do you think created this plan? It may not be as obvious as it seems…**


	6. Rabbits with High IQ's

**Warning: swearing**

Let it be said that James Kirk is a genius. A mad, whoreish genius with a taste for his own blood and the sweet solstice of a good drink, but a genius all the same.

Let it also be said that Spock is a genius. An unemotional, unapproachable, arrogant pointy-eared bastard of a genius, but still, a genius. Even for a Vulcan with a stick up his ass bigger than Jim's ego.

Let it be said that this was McCoy's opinion on the matter. So how on this EARTH did they manage to BOTH screw up the rooming arrangements at the delegation and miss their quota by one. So now, two of the landing party had to share. And the crew had voted, and Jim and Spock were the unlucky men forced to bunk together. See, McCoy was just glad it wasn't him being forced to share. Until he recalled that one time on that one planet with the kitty bitches… And the face sucking. Stick him in a chicken suit and call him Mary had those damn bastards done it on purpose?

Well, Jim was the one who would come up with a plan like that. He still had not figured out who had glued Spock to the chair and then messed with all the engineers' signals. Jim denied it heavily, and with a plan that masterful, he would have mentioned his involvement. Also, Bones had gotten really good at telling when Jim was lying. A small muscle below his left ear twitched.

"_Is there a girl in there?" _

"_No, Course not!" Twitch. _

"_Are you sure you didn't hit your head on anything?"_

"_Positive!" Twitch. _

"_Did you blow up that ship?"_

"_No, why would I do that?" Twitch. _

Over all Jim was an impeccable liar when you didn't know him like the goddam back of your hand. Actually, Bones knew the back of Jim's hand better than his own, he'd patched it up so many times. He had this weird kink with aliens that always managed to get his left hand screwed up. Bones did not want to know what that kink was. What had he been thinking about again?

They were all sitting in a delegation, listening to some scaly man talk about trade and mining and other shit that held no sway what so ever in his life. Bones shouldn't have even been there, he was the god damn CMO, no the linguistics specialist. However this particular planets cuisine consisted of substances that were either poisonous to humans, utterly delicious, poisonous and delicious, or had never been ingested by humans and thus not cataloged. Half the spread on the banquette table was un-cataloged. As Jim paid rapt attention to this man he reached absently for one of the un-know fruits. Bones grabbed his hand.

"What the hell are you thinking? Your allergic to half this goddam universe, and we don't even know what that does to normal humans!" Bones hissed. Jim just smirked and shook his hand off.

"We are about to find out, aren't we?" He grinned and bit into the yellow polka dotted pear shaped thing. McCoy watched as all the women, and a few men, sitting at the table watch Jim's lips with a sudden hunger. Oh god, it was probably some instant-orgy hybrid thing.

"Goddamn if you drop dead, I will resurrect you just so I can kill you with my own two hands," Jim just kept munching happily away at the fruit, paying the doctor no mind. Or the woman who was running her fingers slowly up his leg. At least she was scaly and blue, but Jim had fucked worse.

"Don't be illogical," said Kirk as he polished off the first fruit and picked up another.

"Now you sound like the green blooded goblin," which really freaked McCoy, though he wouldn't admit it. He also swore he saw Spock's ear prick and the set of his mouth twitch in the slightest at his fond nickname for the Vulcan. He had to be seeing things.

I waited calmly for 2.69 hours for Jim to return to our shared quarters. I did not want to meditate only to have him enter and awaken me from my trance, which could be dangerous for the stability of my mental state, already relatively fragile. I was recovering from the 'goo' incident as the Captain so plainly called it at a rate of 9.6% a day, but would not be whole for another three days and the increased healing rate lowered my mental shields by 11.0% After this amount of timed I deemed that it would be unlikely for Jim to return any time within the next 5.1 hours, if at all tonight. So I slipped into my nightly routine, meditating for exactly and hour. It was uneventful, my mind empty. My prolonged absence from the presence of Jim Kirk most likely having something to do with it. After this I raised the temperature in the room to a more palatable 84.7 degrees I prepared for bed. I set the lights to not rise higher than ten percent so if Jim is to enter our shared quarters he is not to awaken me. I feel into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

I underestimated Jim's ability to enter a room quietly. He arrived at 3:03 A.M. with a full glass in his hand and a grin .2% larger than usual on his face. I wondered if it was due to the unknown fruit he had eaten today that had immediately increased his hormone and pheromone production to a point where the scent was detectable by my Vulcan senses.

Bones had probably been right; eating that whole bowl of fruit had not been the best idea. That didn't mean it wasn't fun. What the hell was that stuff? It was like being horny and high but still really aware at the same time. Everything was sharper, which tended to make people uglier, which sucked because diplomats were ugly enough to begin with. So once he escaped the after party of utter boredom and lots of unwanted advances, he wandered the grounds for a bit, looking at the gardens and the architecture, which he found quite beautiful even in his state. Finally he returned for one more round of drinks and grabbed a glass of an exquisite red wine he thought Spock would like.

So he showed up back at his shared quarters with a key ring full of rooms he wasn't going to visit to find Spock already asleep. Jim had hoped to see a face devoid of all the control he usually possessed but he was disappointed. Well that wasn't really a surprise, Spock was Spock after all. He managed to look more stressed when asleep, maybe because there was a lack of control. Jim really hoped he wasn't having a nightmare. He snuck into the room as quietly as possible, realizing it was freakishly hot but not really minding because it would mean he got to sleep in less clothing near the Vulcan. Did he seriously just think that? He put the glass down as quietly as he could, but that must have been what awakened the Vulcan because a rustle came from the bed and the soft sigh of

"Lights," which buzzed into life at a ridiculously low level. Weren't Vulcans not supposed to sigh? But Jim was treated to a sight of a sleep disheveled Spock, which was worth an entire life of hardships. The Vulcan was propped up on one elbow, face impassive as usual, but the light brought out his cheek bones and the spike of his brows. His eyes were that primal black again and his hair was ruffled. What really got Jim going was the deep red blanket that his slid down his chest, revealing those hard planes of alien muscle and those green nipples he liked so much. Exotic Erotica much? "Good evening Jim, or should I say good morning?" The feelings dulled a little and Jim felt like a teenager sneaking back home way to late after a party where he did quite a few illegal things.

"Morning I think," Jim said with a sigh and sat on his own bed. "No need to imply insult to my partying skills," and Kirk dropped the pile of keys on the floor. Spock glared at them, and if looks could burn, that one would have vaporized the keys in an instant. Jim picked up the glass and handed it to Spock who eyed it warily. "Go on, you'll like it," and Spock took a tentative sip, and much to Jim's gratification, another. He knew alcohol didn't get Vulcans drunk, but it would soften him up a little for maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes was all he needed to get started. He had a sneaky little plot cooking in that mad genius brain of his. Half of him was screaming it was going to get him killed, but the fruit's affects were taking over and his judgment was failing considerably.

Jim began stripping right in front of Spock, trying to be as erotic as possibly without making it too obvious. He smiled as blown black eyes watched his every move, if rather blankly, as green tinted lips sipped more blood colored wine. Finally down to his boxers he stopped and licked his lips. He then placed all his weight on his arms at the end of Spock's bed and languidly pulled himself up, rolling his shoulders and tightening his back. He didn't miss the slightest wobble of the wine in the glass.

"Captain, this is not appropriate behavior. If you do not cease immediately, I will force you to."

"Oh Spock, come on now we both know you want me," Kirk said with a faint laugh, behind Spock know. He whispered, breath cold against Spock's sun like skin, "Remember last time? How…" Jim seemed to be thinking, then leaned in so his lips just barely brushed Spock's ear, "Fun it was?" Jim took delight in watching the shiver curl its way up Spock's spine. He wasn't drinking anymore, but the wine was almost gone anyway. Jim gently kissed the tip of Spock ear before nipping it playfully. His skin was so hot, and it smelled so good, like murderous cinnamon and nutmeg. Spicy. He wanted to taste it. Ever so carefully he placed his tongue on the inside of the cartilage and drew its rough surface down the outside edge of the elegant ear. Spock's eyes rolled back a little in his head and Jim grinned around his tongue. He moved his lips down to that sexy neck, gently pressing his mouth to the tender flesh there. He worked Spock's jaw, only nipping it once. Then, carefully, as to not scare him away he pulled his face toward his own. Kirk was surprised with the desperation there.

"This is not logical Captain," the argument sounded weak even to Jim's ears.

"You're argument has holes," it was meant to be playful, but Spock looked rather bewildered and slightly affronted. Nothing like the last time he has touched him like this. Maybe he should have brought Spock the coffee. So instead of worrying about his friend, he kissed him.

It was like kissing a Greek statue that had been sitting in the sun all day. Spock did not react to Jim's lip movements, nor his licking or gentle biting. Nothing, until Jim remembered something. He pulled away and took Spock hand in his own, desperate now, and took the fingers into his mouth.

Jim literally watched Spock's control be torn to shreds. He made a sound deep in his chest reminiscent of a growl that had Jim's hairs standing on end and his brain screaming _Run like a crazy bitch 'cause he's gonna kill you then eat your guts._ Thank you fight or flight instinct but you're a little late. In a milli-second Jim was trapped under a hot Vulcan body with slaughter in his eyes. Jim spent the time thinking _I'm in deep shit_ until Spock spoke.

"Enough," he hissed, wrapping his teeth around his jugular and biting down rater painfully. It was sexy though. In-between the softer kisses Spock continued his thought. "Enough of the meaningless frivolities." And Jim realized all his teasing has worked. He grinned into the vicious kiss, a battle for dominance he lost by a long shot.

Spock kissed him like the universe was going to implode tomorrow, hands ravishing his skin. Jim returned the favor, trying to memorize the muscle. He broke lip to lip contact and went down to taste the nipples, which sadly had little to no erotic feeling for Spock, but still tasted like a concentrated essence of _him_. Spock took a note from this and did the same to Jim, which led him to moaning, and rolling up onto his shoulders, and arching his back. This Spock was good. He was damn good.

Then he decided that he wanted to leave. To _god fucking damn leave_, when Jim was more than half way there and they hadn't _done_ anything yet. The real Jim said this was for the best. Spock had gotten this terrified look on his face when he had seen the bruise on his neck, and had tried to get up. Jim wrapped his arms around his chest, using all his strength to keep him down while he kept their lips locked together. That ensued their wrestling match that involved a lot of banging, then breaking a lamp, and Jim managing to fall on his left wrist and sprain it. Spock stopped after that, consenting to sleep in the same bed with Jim if it would stop his 'unseemly advances not fitting for a Starfleet captain'. It was like sleeping next to a Greek statue that had been in the sun all day. A Greek statue that, thinking Jim was asleep, wrapped an arm around his chest and mumbled his name in loving annoyance.

McCoy had pulled the unfortunate straw of being in one of the two room's bordering the commanding officers. He had picked the side with Spock's wall, knowing they were less likely to fuck in Spock's bed. It would mess up his perfect sheets. How does the Goblin get into bed with that thought? The others didn't understand his grumblings and his side switching, they were none the wiser to the condition of Spock and Jim. Oh but he knew, he anticipated. And it was fine until 3 in the morning. Who starts at 3? Did they switch beds or something? Because as it turns out, Jim and the bastard make earth shattering love. Was it necessary to bang the head board into the wall every other second? Did Jim have to moan so damn loud? And was Spock fucking _growling_? What in bloody hell? Finally McCoy couldn't take it anymore. He rolled out of bed, grabbed a glass of water, and went to go find some ear plugs.

Let it be said that James Kirk is a genius. A mad, whoreish genius with a taste for his own blood and the sweet solstice of a good drink, but a genius all the same.

Let it also be said that Spock is a genius. An unemotional, unapproachable, arrogant pointy-eared bastard of a genius, but still, a genius. Even for a Vulcan with a stick up his ass bigger than Jim's ego. He didn't want to know what was up Jim's ass at this point.

Let it be said that this was McCoy's opinion on the matter. Until he heard them fuck like it was spring fever. Then he decided he'd call them rabbits.

"Spock! Oh God Spock my _wrist_. Ah it hurts!"

Definitely rabbits.

**Hey guys! A really fast update because I was feeling the need to write this. SO MANY FAVORITES AND ALERTS! More reviews too, yay! Begging is affective, trust me. I love you my readers! Special thanks to **

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**Anyway, a little hotter this chapter I thought, swanky. Got to keep the tension though, so no actual sex, no matter what McCoy thinks. **


	7. I Know You Know I Know

**Part One Hadron XIII **

I Know You Know I Know

* * *

><p>"Captain Kirk, I am sorry to inform you of this, I really am," Admiral Pike said through the view screen. "I really wish I had the power to cancel the mission, but I don't." Jim nodded his ascent, chewing his lip in thought. "Many of us want to repeal, but it won't get through in time."<p>

"I understand sir. Don't worry too much, you know me," Jim smirked, trying to show his calm. And he was calm. Suicide mission pulled out his inner zen. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

"The Captain is correct sir. Though it is extremely odd that they would ask for a delegations presence on their planet at this time, and the fact that both mine and the Captains attendance have been requested, it is doubtful they will openly harm us for fear of the enterprise in orbit." Spock's smooth monotone seemed to reassure Pike a little. However, the lack of exact percentages of likelihood and occurrence had Jim's stomach sinking rapidly. This was one of those Vulcan 'truth is a matter of perspective' things.

"Our negotiations have been going slightly better with this group in the past months, though their relationship with Starfleet is rocky. I would out right refuse to send you down if they didn't have valuable mineral resources that we so desperately need, to quote Archer," Pike seemed rather desperate, and that didn't aid Kirk in planning.

"Exactly how long has the relationship with this human colony been 'rocky'?" Kirk dreaded the answer. Pike visibly winced.

"Since the dictator took over three years back. She has been… difficult to negotiate with,"

"Define difficult sir," said Spock. It would have been snotty coming from anyone else, but Spock believed pleasantries illogical. 'Pointless chatter used by humans because silence would cause them physical harm' to use his exact words. Pike ran an aged hand through his hair.

"Demanding, threatening, poisonous… things like that. She appears to be such an intelligent, kind girl, girl because she is barely twenty, even though she dresses… well you'll see. The issue is the people adore her. No rebellion in sight," the admiral runs his fingers through gray hair and sighs. Someone calls Pike off screen, and he turns to them and nods. Two eyes face the command pair again. "I must go, good luck down there," he says with a fake smile and then the screen goes blank. Kirk turns to Spock.

"What is the percentage chance that they will not openly harm us out of fear?" Jim says as he stands and stretches. Spock just looks at him.

"This is not relevant information," And Spock eyes swirl around to the rest of the bridge. Jim understands immediately what Spock is implying, and gets up.

"Entering orbit around Hadron XIII in T minus two minutes sir," says Sulu. The entire bridge is calm, if rather subdued with this development.

"Diplomatic Party requested in zree hours keeptain," says Chekov, even his bubbling personality flat.

"Thanks guys, Sulu you have command. Spock and I will be back in a few minutes. Uhura, patch through any communications directly to my communicator." Jim said with a small smile. "Chekov, please open up a ship wide channel for me, I need to call a meeting of all staff." Then they were gone, and the bridge deflated their false hope that they would see their commanding officers alive, let alone in one piece, ever again.

o0o

* * *

><p>Jim and Spock waited in the lift, the first tapping his fingers impatiently on the wall as he waited for his connection to load.<p>

"Might I inquire as to what you aim to accomplish?" Spock asked as the lift stopped and they continued their path, Spock determining that they were heading to the mess hall. Why, he couldn't fathom.

"I'm calling a meeting of the crew in the mess hall. I want to talk to them face to face before we leave, just in case. I also want to call for volunteers for this mission. It is not a strategic move for only the two of us to go down there, but if it comes to that," Jim got a steely look in his brilliant blue eyes, "I won't order anyone to certain destruction." Spock nodded, silent now as Jim's voice echoed through the entire ship. It was disconcerting hearing him say the words and then have them come slightly delayed over the speakers. That voice didn't sound like Jim. It was cold, calculating and metallic. Jim was the opposite of that. He was comforting and emotional and warm, especially when he smiled and- Spock cut himself off. He could not go there, not now, in a crisis no less. He should never go there in the first place.

"Enterprise, this is your captain speaking. All crewmembers please report to the mess hall for debriefing. Spock and I, we have things we need to discuss with you. If your duty does not permit you to leave your station, do not. Our meeting will be broadcast, but I am ordering you all to watch, not suggesting. That means you Dr. McCoy!" Jim said while trying to lighten the situation. He could practically see Bones scowl as he moved to turn off the speakers in the med bay. As they pushed into the Cafeteria he asked the few people there if they would like to help Spock and him move the tables. Asked, not ordered. He was surprised at the amount of enthusiasm they put into the task, and as others arrived, they helped as well. Soon there was only one table in the center, and seeing as that everyone who was going to come was there, he stood on it. Spock did not climb up, but simply stood by his feet, hands clasped neatly behind his back. People respected his personal space bubble, even though the mess was packed far past maximum capacity. Jim took a deep breath and flipped on his communicator so the computer would amplify his voice.

"Enterprise, once again this is you captain speaking. However, today I do not come to you as your Captain, or even Kirk. I come to you as Jim," he paused, eyes sweeping the crowd. "I come to you as Jim, because as many of you know, this next mission my first officer and I are about to embark on may be our last." Members of the crowd shook their heads and shouted no. The sandy haired man raised his hands. "I know it is not a pleasant thought, but it is the truth. And, if this does happen, I just want all of you to know how grateful I am for your valiant work and your support in my crazy endeavors. I may not be the best captain, and I may not always make the best decisions, but I want to let you all know that you are the greatest crew I could have asked for," his voice echoed through the halls of this ship, and some people were crying. "Now, I hate to ask this, but Spock and I have decided that the best course of action is to ask for volunteers for this mission. If no one does, we will understand." There was scilence for maybe five seconds before a voice shouted,

"We will!" and the crowd parted to reveal two en-signs in red shirts. Not security though, communications. Negotiation specialists actually. One was a man, and the other a woman, both older than most of the bridge crew, early thirties. One was freakishly chipper and upbeat, the other stoic and angry looking. They came to rest by Spock. There was silence for another ten seconds before a hand was raised near the back of the crowd.

"I will." The crowd didn't just part this time, it grumbled and muttered and he heard a few swears and desperate looks. When she got to the front of the crowd he saw why.

"Private Roswell, I must inform you that it is more logical for you to remain here and continue your work in the science department. Your talents-"

"Mr. Spock," said the dark haired girl of maybe eighteen in science blues, "I have calculated the risks. I know the consequences," Spock frowned. He _frowned._ That was the equivalent of a human swearing and screaming and shoving her so she would not volunteer.

"If this is a human quest for glory then I must advise-"

"It is not Mr. Spock. Besides, this is my home. I understand the politics and the culture. It is only logical that I join you," her voice was emotionless. Jim was impressed. She had interrupted Spock twice and used logic against him. This had to be the science prodigy that was one eighteenth Vulcan or something like that. He had read her report when she was assigned to the vessel. Her great time ten grandmother had been raped by a fallen Vulcan and the genes had remained relatively dormant until her. He just notice that her ears were actually a little pointy, and her eyebrows slightly more arched than normal. Also, her eyes were distinctly Vulcan, such a dark brown they were almost black. And she was young, eighteen may have been too kind. No wonder Spock didn't want her coming. However, he was Captain and could not show favorites. He jumped off the table and placed a hand on Spocks shoulder, damn the no touching rule, he'd broken it in worse ways, some of which he didn't remember.

"It is her decision Spock," private Roswell nodded at him, and he was hit by her presence. She could give Uhura a run for her money.

"Thank you Captain. It will be a pleasure to accompany you on this mission." He smiled even as his stomach sank with dread. Now

o0o

* * *

><p>Right after their commanding officers left was when they slammed out of warp and into orbit around Hadron XIII. It was not a beautiful planet by any stretch of the word. There were two massive continents split by a small ocean, and the rest of the planet was covered by the same indigo water. The land itself looked like the Sahara desert times fifty, with only a few patches of along the coasts. What was the most depressing were the massive scars across the land, giant trench mines that tore the crust of the planet up and gave the planet and angry appearance. In the center of one of these X's was a giant city, with one tower so huge the thin wispy clouds wrapped below its point.<p>

Uhura was sickened by its presence. Instead, she looked back down at her communications station. Things went about as normal for near two hours, and she received a message from the Captain saying they had three volunteers for the mission and that they would be arriving a few minutes early to the delegation to surprise their hosts. Uhura looked back down after her quick conversation with the bridge to see four messages blinking there. What? One she immediately forwarded to McCoy, the other to Chekov, the net to Scotty and the last to Sulu. They had been cleared of bugs even though the sent address was blank.

o0o

* * *

><p>McCoy received a message from communications on his padd as he was sitting in his office, contemplating why in hell he had ever signed up for Starfleet because he hated space. He really hated it. What was wrong with Earth anyway? Why did people have to fly across infinite dark cold deadly space to live on a different planet? Especially an ugly one like Hadron XIII. Just imagining all the shots he was going to have to give Spock and Jim and those three others when they came back was… if they came back.<p>

"Damn it!" he shouted and slammed his fist on the desk. He had been trying to avoid thinking about that. Back to the dark cold recesses of space. His padd beeped and he picked it up, glad for the distraction. Well he was, until he opened the message.

"Hello Dr. McCoy. Or is it Bones? I wasn't sure which you'd prefer. " It was that bitch of a dictator from this god-forsaken planet. He recognized her from the news holo, though she was much… prettier in person. "I know Jim prefers Bones. I wonder how you got that nickname?" She smiled wickedly, which didn't freak him out. What freaked him out was how she knew Jim called him Bones. "Does he jump your Bones, doctor?" McCoy growled and tried to get out of the message. His padd just beeped at him.

"Shut up you crazy bitch,"

"Oh he does? I was just teasing, I was under the impression Jim was with the Vulcan half blood. Maybe my sources are wrong," McCoy paled visibly at the mention of Jim being with Spock. The dictator laughed. "Guess not. Have they asked you to join in yet? No? Oh, poor baby. Jim is leaving his best friend for something more… exciting. That would be just like Jim, though wouldn't it? He is a bit of a… rabbit." And McCoy dropped the padd. How the _hell_ did she know that? No one knew that. She laughed sweetly. "Bye doctor, you'll be hearing from me later." The screen went dark and McCoy resisted the urge to crush it under his boot.

o0o

* * *

><p>Scotty looked up when his padd beeped. Grumbling he snatched it from where it was balanced on his tool box. He opened the message and was surprised when half a woman's face appeared. A very pretty woman's face.<p>

"Mr. Scott," she said as she placed a finger on the side of her mouth and looked up and off shot. "What would happen if I were to force frequency Gl900043 through the enterprise's mainframe?" Scotty's mouth dropped. How did she know about the surge frequency? The woman laughed. "Yes, I know everything Mr. Scott," and she was gone and his Padd was dead.

o0o

* * *

><p>Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov received the same message at the same time. Half a woman appeared, and she smiled seductively at them.<p>

"My, are you handsome," she cooed before leaning into the screen and whispering behind a hand while glancing around, "Did you know the person sitting next to you is lying to you about something important? And if you don't believe me, ask Mr. Scott. He knows that I know everything." Then with another smile and a lick of her lips, she was gone.

o0o

* * *

><p>Then one more message appeared on Uhura's console, and it was for her. Curios, and cleared by the computer, she plugged in her head set and opened it.<p>

She knew it was a mistake the second she opened it and the lethally hypnotic voice rolled into her ears.

"Hello Lieutenant Uhura, I have been anxious to meet you," a smiling face appeared on her screen. Well, half a face. It was a woman, a young one at that, with glowing white skin and blood colored lips. The other half of the face was off shot.

"Who are you?" she asked warily. The woman laughed, and Uhura realized that she was younger even than herself. You would never be able to tell from those black eyes, cold and deadly just like space.

"I am surprised you do not recognize me from the Starfleet propaganda. They are always trying to instill fear of me and my means." She smiles again, and it is not a show of affection or happiness. Something dim flickers in the back of Uhura's mind before the memory flares at full force. A holo of this woman ordering over a hundred to death for some thing or another…

"You're Star," Uhura says with shock. "Leader of Hadron XIII,"

"Finally! I thought you were supposed to be smart." She flicks her nails and looks back at the screen. "You have probably heard that I am ruthless, vicious and cunning. I would like to say that those are all true, good for me… not so good for your Captain and his little Vulcan friend." Uhura franticly tries to remove the message from the screen, but she is blocked at every turn. She can't even put a tracer on it, or do anything with her frozen communications station. "Anyway, I did not come calling just to talk about me. I called to talk about your delegation. Your captain is so predictable," she gestures with her hand absentmindedly. "I knew he would call for volunteers, and two of those volunteers… well let's just say that if things don't go according to plan, they'll be kind enough to put two nice holes in two nice people for me." She smiled. "It was nice meeting you Uhura. I'm glad we had this little chat, I cannot wait to have another. But I need to go, they're arriving as we speak." And the screen went black. Her communications station died, actually the entire ship did. It was silent for a moment, and the only light came through the view screen, reflected off the planet. Then the ship surged back to life filled with beeping and glittering lights. Chekov was shouting, and Uhura was desperately trying to make contact with the delegation, doing everything and anything.

"Ve've lost zhere vitals! I have got nozing, zhey must be blocking out signal!" The Russian was franticly pushing buttons. Uhura responded rather desperately,

"They're spies!" all faces on the bridge turned to her. "Two on the delegation are spies!" and everything went deathly quiet.

**OMG a plot this chapter! This might be a two or three chapter arc, not sure yet. No swanky goodness this chapter, but hey, can't always have it. It will be in the next two chapters, I pornmise. I mean promise. THANKS TO ALL MY READERS, FAVORITERS, and ALERTERS! Special thanks to **

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	8. Wait, What?

Kirk was surrounded by the glittering rays of the transport beam. Normally it was painless; excluding the tingling that plagued every part of your body like it had fallen asleep. This time it was different. Kirk's lungs filled with water and his stomach with air, his muscles felt like they were tearing themselves apart. Something was wrong. Then it was over, and he was gasping on the floor of a blindingly and deafeningly white room.

"Welcome to Hadron XIII," said a voice like cool water pouring past rouge reddened lips. And that is just what it was. Jim raised his head which weighed about fifty pounds and managed to get to his feet. "I am Star." And that was also true. She was… lovelier in person, even with smooth brown hair combed over half her face. It was heart shaped, just thought he'd point that out.

"I am James-"

"I know who you are," she says with a soft wave of her hand and a gentle smile. "I would not have requested your presence here if I did not know everything about you." Kirk is a little put off by the everything, but he lets it slide as she stands and the silver fabric runs down her body to reveal much more than it hides. His eyes are riveted on her chest when Spock appears in front of him, taking one gasp of air before stumbling back into Jim's waiting arms. It takes a moment for the Vulcan to readjust himself, just like it did Jim. Behind them appears the rest of the group with mixed grunts of pain. He turns to find Private Roswell clutching her eye, though she is better off than Private Gold and Private Keller, one had lost a pinky and one has gained a second. A look of concern flits across Star's serene face.

"Aid the back two, but leave the girl, she will be fine in a moment." Kirk is faintly confused because there is no one in the perfectly white room. Literally, it is almost as if someone put two giant Frisbees together and bowed out part of it for a throne. The floor sinks in an elevator and it answers his question. Three chairs then rise from where two of his crew once were. "Please, sit," she says and it radiates such warmth that he cannot believe any of those holo's he ever watched were true. He takes his seat, followed by a disoriented Spock who keeps blinking owlishly and straightening his uniform. Madeline dragged herself up from the floor and into a chair. Jim's jaw went a little slack when he saw her face. One eye had turned from a soft brown to a pure black, shot through with silver veins. It was almost reptilian, and it set his heart racing in sympathy. It obviously hurt from the expression on her face. "Welcome all to Hadron XIII. I apologize for your… rough arrival. The magnetic fields on my planet can be quite unpredictable," she sits herself, another chair has risen with a floating table. She doesn't even have to walk. The chair moves her to the head of the table without much effort. Spock seems to have gotten a hold of himself and speaks for the first time.

"I apologize for asking, but is it possible to turn off the glow in this chamber?" well that explains the blinking. Star looks positively abashed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she waves her hands in the air pointlessly. She's supposed to be vicious? "Computer Code 307,"

"Take?" the voice comes from everywhere at once. It vibrates through his bones and shakes his teeth. Spock twitches and jerks his hands up from the table.

"Action." She replies while typing something into the table.

"Processing… complete." And the walls around the disk click and whirr, sliding back to reveal windows. Jim is mesmerized by the view. It seems like the entire planet spreads out before them, and it is beautiful even if the planet is ugly. They must be on the four hundredth floor because a thin cloud rolls across the glass. The internal light dims severely. Star dismisses her key board and screen with a light frown but then her eyes spark and she is her sweet self.

"So," she says and looks at Private Roswell. "Who are you?"

"I am Madeline Roswell," Star nods, and a flicker of recognition flares in her eyes.

"You are from here, are you not?" and Star looks a little hungry. Kirk notices that her hair has not shifted at all from covering a perfect half of her face.

"Yes, this is my place of origin," emotionless. Spock would have been proud. Had Vulcans felt pride.

"Welcome home, Madeline." That set off the freak meters in his head, but for some reason, he could not act on them. Everything went a little fuzzy before snapping back into focus. That's when he realized there was something in the air. His subconscious separated from the front of his brain and it screamed _EVIL!_ But it was too late.

"How are you today?" she asks, and it is an extremely random question but he answers against his will.

"Just fine, thank you," and she smiles, and it freezes _Spock's_ blood.

"Good. You're a tough one Mr. Kirk. Most humans lasted half that time under the assault of what's in the air." She looks as Spock who is shuddering.

"Oh Spock," her fingers come across the table and run down his face. The muscles in his jaw convulse but he is unable to pull away. Jim's mind screams at this, he wants to throttle this woman for touching Spock like that. That's _rape_ for a Vulcan. "I cannot wait to break you." Finally her eyes turn to Madeline.

"Ah Madeline," and she looks… sad. "You should never have come here. You should have listened to Mr. Spock," the girl is collapsed back on her chair, but managed to glare even in through the haze. How did she know Spock had told her not to come? Deductive reasoning? "But you will make a fine heir. And if that doesn't work, well," she sighed. "The Kangars are always hungry." Jim had no idea what a Kangar was, but it sounded like a rabid kangaroo. With really big teeth and an appetite for meat.

"Why?" Spock coughed out, his face twisted as he tried to wrest control from the drugs in the air. Jim was losing consciousness, and Madeline seemed to already be there, even though her eyes were open and staring. She looked dead, but she couldn't be, right?

"Because Spock," she says and reaches up to pull the curtain of hair away from her face. Jim is shocked enough to remain conscious for a few more seconds. Half her face is coated in what looks like liquid mercury that was molded to her every feature. She blinks, and the silver eye opens and closes. Though when she speaks only the real half of her mouth moves. It is not inhibited by the silver, it moves like the other half is there, though it's not.

"Computer, code 499,"

"Take?" and her silver mouth moved, releasing the robotic voice. That was the last thing he saw before he drifted into oblivion.

His dreams were haunted with that grinning face.

o)0(o

* * *

><p>o)0(o<p>

Star stared at the Vulcan thoughtfully as he quivered in his chair. Long ago had the air become too saturated for her to breathe safely, so she now wore a respirator. Somehow Spock still managed to hold on to a semblance of control, watching her with those beautiful brown eyes. She pulled up his vitals on the table, watching the blood flow sluggishly through his veins. Revealing half her face had taken out Jim, the man had practically fainted. No one in the Federation knew about her splice, she kept the secret carefully. It was her ace in the hole, usually enough to unbalance her opponents so she could snatch what she wanted. Madeline already knew about the face, but she had been gone minutes before Jim. However, Spock still wouldn't succumb. Getting tired of this waiting, as she had other things to do, she pulled a mask from under the table, stretching the hose out and placing it over Spock's face. His eye lids fluttered as the heavily sedated air washed into his lungs. Desperately he tries to keep them open, but as Star watched they closed and he fell limp. Pulling the mask off and letting it retract she issued orders to her computer to remove of their guests. Their chairs sank into the floor, the white glow closing to cover their unconscious faces.

"I love drugs," she said absently as she retreated to her throne and pulled displays across her electronic eye. "Computer, establish connection with the enterprise, under Mr. Kirk's communicator. Voice modulation James Tiberius Kirk." She said and leaned back, having no need for a microphone.

"Captain? Is everything all right? We lost your signal and Spock's until a moment ago,"

"Everything is fine Uhura," said the silver face in Jim's voice exactly. "Star explained the magnetic field of this planet is unpredictable and strong." The woman sighs on the other end of the line.

"Thank god. It's not just that we are worried about. Scotty tells me that this woman knows the surge frequency of the Enterprise, and she contacted Chekov, Sulu, and McCoy though they won't tell anyone what she said to them," Uhura sounds worried, as she should. Star smiles.

"Really? Well that is worrying. I will talk to Spock about it, see what he thinks." Jim's voice stops, and Uhura speaks warily.

"There is something else,"

"Oh? What is it?" From the conversation she had with Jim, she was best determining how he spoke. Uhura didn't seem to suspect anything.

"Are you alone?" Star pondered this for a split second. Would Jim be alone?

"No, Spock's right here."

"Oh, that's better then. Anyone else?"

"No."

"Good, because… well we believe that two of you delegation are spies." Star swore colorfully and then proceeded to break up the connection while sprouting a few words in Jim's voice. Then the connection was dead and she was alone again in her 'throne room' it was really just to impress visitors. Nothing else in her life was this glamorous. In fact, the bedrooms she gave her now prisoners were bigger than her own. She sighed, realizing she was still stuck in Jim's voice.

"I love Spock," she said. Then she switched her voice to the man in question. "I feel all-encompassing affection toward James Tiberius Kirk." She laughed, but it was more of a hiccup sob. What had she become?

Monster was too kind a word.

o)0(o

Spock came to lying in a bed, the covers pulled tightly across his chest. For a moment he believed it all a dream, though the chance of a Vulcan having such a vivid dream was less than 7.89%. However, Spock did not recognize the sheets, nor the walls of the room. Also, his room on the Star Ship enterprise did not have curtains, because it did not have a window. He rose to examine this development when he realized he was no longer clothed in something deemed acceptable. An open white robe that dropped to his ankles and white linen shorts that ended at his knees. Along with this exactly twelve electrodes were attached to his chest and back. There was one on his left temple with another a little higher and to the right. His arms and legs had a total of twenty. Each were attached by a thin filament, though they themselves weren't attached to anything. He felt a prick in his arm and removed the robe to observe a thin needle attached to a small capsule filled with aqua liquid. It was taped to his arm, and the needle dug into his flesh, but the pain was minimal. Right above it was a more frightening development. A piece of gauze was bandaged over what appeared to be an insert for an IV. What had they done to him while he had been incapacitated?

"Welcome Mr. Spock," said the feminine drone of the computer. The sound waves reverberated from every surface and set his teeth on edge as they over loaded his sensory systems. At least they had dimmed the glow in the wall to an amount that allowed him to see clearly, and not just a scattering of polarized rainbows that blocked out all useful information. Now he realized that had been done on purpose to lower his ability to reason to a level comparable to that of humans. That is the only reason the drug meant to separate the brain took effect. "I am to inform you that removal of either the electrodes or the drip will result in electrocution. Mr. Kirk resides in his own room at the end of the hall," but he heard no more as he was already passing through the door and down the short passage way into the adjacent room. The suite was a loop, no entrance, no exit. At least no visible way, there was most likely a secret door of some kind, or possibly the ceiling and floor rose and fell such as the throne room.

Jim was already up, and moving to the door in the same fashion when Spock entered. He paused, blue eyes livid. His sand colored hair was tussled with sleep, his hands clenched into determined fists. The open robe, the same as Spock's, revealed hard planes of well worked muscle. His lips, reddened with his nervous biting. His round ears, so different from his own points. Those eyes that screamed defiance and survival and that they _did not_ believe in no-win scenarios. But instead of telling the man before him that he loved him, he said,

"I estimate our chance of survival to be less than 3.28%," Jim watched Spock's beautiful lips form the words with unadulterated accuracy. Jim loved the way his ink hair fell perfectly around those sophisticated ears.(can ears be sophisticated?) The way his hands, usually clasped behind his back, were pressed to the doorframe, knuckles white with desperation. His chest that rose and fell so much slower than humans and that warm pulse that danced below Jim's fingertips way too fast. Those eyebrows that arched upward in beautiful grace every time he felt the need to express an emotion physically. Those eyes. Those eyes that begged and warned and showed such strength and warmth and betrayed everything Spock tried so desperately to control. But instead of saying 'I love you, Spock,' he reached out and grabbed the man's robe, viciously taking those plush lips with his own.

This time there was no teasing, no playful tweaking and nipping. Neither was smiling, neither was laughing. Instead it was filled with a raw desperation and heat and _passion_, because both men loved each other and this was how they showed it. Neither was winning the battle, because neither was fighting. Their lips twisted together and they clutched each other's faces and hair and tore at what little clothes they were wearing with shaking fingers. As Jim pushed Spock towards the bed the man gasped out,

"My room," and Jim stopped his hot trail down Spock's abdomen.

"Why?"

"No mirrors," and Jim understood. One way glass would really spoil the mood. So they managed to walk down the hall without attacking one another. The Vulcan's room was nearly dark, just the small amount of light dribbling from under and around the curtain. Spock had the misfortune (or fortune) to walk in first. This meant as he turned around Jim shoved him back onto the bed and pulled himself on top of him, kissing him again. Spock was so warm, and his heart was racing he could barely tell one beat from the next. Jim took a moment to look at that face, and nearly lost it. The eyes were blown black and the lips bright with kisses. His cheek bones were sharp and he looked every inch inhuman. Spock's chest rose and fell rapidly, and Jim could taste his breath on his face. Spock couldn't wait any more; he leaned up and brought Jim back to him. The Vulcan's tongue languidly brushed across the top of his mouth and Jim moaned, melting into the lithe arms at held him. Spock flipped them over with little resistance. He looked down at Jim and did lose it. The man looked at him with eyes that begged and lips parted to pant his name as his nostrils flared slightly in anticipation. Spock began desperately nipping at Jim as he tugged down the man's shorts. Jim kicked them off and went for Spock's, and things just degraded from there into incoherent mumbles and groans and their names panted and shouted and whispered into the others ear.

They'd be okay with dying tomorrow, if it came to that.

o)0(o

* * *

><p>o)0(o<p>

"See Madeline? Is this not delightfully fun?" The girl simply watches the screens and nods. She is dumbstruck, and it is a little bit like watching porn staring your teachers that you always thought were good looking but never thought they'd go at it together. "Technology is unbelievable. They believe they are having each other in undying love, when in reality they are just sleeping next to each other and twitching." She laughed and pointed at the two upper shots where one was Spock's induced dream and the other was Jim's. She was about to say something, but never got the chance. Something pinged on the console and she sighed. "I have to meet with Twieedle Dim and Tweedle Dumber. Useless as informants, I swear… I will return in a minute, hopefully with their heads on a nice silver tray," and she fluttered out the door, silver dress gently shifting to reveal quite a bit of skin. How could so much fabric/alloy/thing cover so little? Then she was gone. Madeline had been waiting for this opportunity for the past day. The woman never slept, or ate, or went to the bathroom. It was unnatural, but she could worry about that later. Right now, she had hacking to do. Leaving the videos on the screen because she was a (mostly) human girl and was not strong enough to turn it off and it would be good cover for what she was doing. She had learned from Jim/Spock, the best hacker/programmer of the century. So creating a sink hole and opening the back door was easy, even encrypting the message up to the eyebrows and putting it in a code she had discussed with Chekov the other day. Then the message was gone. It was simple. EMERGENCY: BEAM CAPTAIN KIRK COMMANCER SPOCK AND PRIVATE ROSWELL UP AT EXACTLY 1100 NEXT ROTATION. That was when the dampeners reset, and for a minute actual communications could get through and transporters worked. It would still be painful, and she would probably lose her eye. However, they couldn't miss it. If they did, Kirk would be dead and Spock will have gone certifiably insane. Madeline was confident no human would be able to find her message, that it would get through to Chekov.

She had forgotten she was going against the computer herself. For when Star walked in she sighed.

"I should have learned by now. Trust people and your plans fall to pieces," there was a sharp prick in Madeline's side and she dropped into unconsciousness. This was better however, because if Star had not said anything, it would have meant she intercepted the message and wanted Madeline to believe they were being rescued until it was too late.

o)0(o

* * *

><p>o)0(o<p>

"Hello Uhura," a smooth voice jolted her awake. She was finally sleeping easy too. Making contact with Kirk earlier today had eased the worries swirling around in her head, and though the connection had broken up, everything was going fine. She had a few doubts and something was shifting unhappily in the back of her mind, but she'd rather believe Jim was safe than half way to death. She had told him about the spies, so he was being careful… right? She worried about Spock though. She always worried about him. She had ended their relationship three months ago because she knew his heart wasn't in it, but he didn't want to hurt her. Her! His planet had been destroyed, he'd lost his mother, and he had been worried about her feelings. That's why she worried.

"What do you want?" she said and sat up, dragging her padd onto her lap. The glow lit her face in a way that turned her dark skin ghostly. Uhura knew that avoiding Star would be pointless; she'd find some way to get her message through whether on the wall or in her mind. Also, though she would never say it out loud, she was scared of what this woman would do. Once again, only half her face was visible.

"I don't want anything Uhura. I just want to tell you something. What do you know of Spock's… social life after you broke off relations with him?" Uhura's back straightened. This was creepy. She had just been thinking about this. Star smiled, guessing. "Not much right? I mean most people are scared of him or feel stupid around him or a combination of the two. So it's really been you trying to get him to interact with others hasn't it? Well, you and who else? Oh that's right, Jim. But, that's rather odd isn't it? Spock tried to kill Jim not a year and a half ago," Uhura's blood turned to ice. No one knew about that. It was a closely guarded secret of the senior bridge crew of the enterprise. The camera footage had been erased and Jim had sworn them all to secrecy. This meant that someone had to have cracked. Someone important. Or Spock's father told her, which she highly doubted.

Star smiled.

"Oh, that was a secret wasn't it? I shouldn't have said anything," she covers her lips with an elegant hand. "But that's not the point. The point is, how could they have gone from loathing each other to being in such a close relationship? Jim felt really bad about snapping Spock like that, insulting his mother when he has his own mommy issues. You remember, Jim used to be a whore. So how would he make something up to someone? Then he realized he actually _liked _Spock, and Spock realized that he actually liked Jim. What could get Jim to stop whoring around?" _An over protective Vulcan_, Uhura thought to herself. "I mean all they've yet to do is declare love for one another." She leaned towards the screen conspiratorially. "And I mean everything." Uhura blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"You know, how Jim and Spock are fucking. Have been or a while now I think," Uhura was still baffled. What was she talking about?

"What are you talking about? You're just trying to get in my head."

"True, maybe you're not as stupid as I thought. But I'm helping you really. Think back Uhura,"

"I mean they sometimes eat lunch together when their shifts overlap, and they discuss particle physics and other things impossible for normal people to understand, and they play chess twice a week in one of their rooms… oh shit." All the pieces connected together. All the looks they shot one another, Kirk's guilty smiles, all those chess matches… they were competing in a different sort of game. And the glue incident? The footage had been erased on the bridge… oh god had they done it on the Captain's chair? Or maybe over the science station? That brought images to her mind that…

"How long?" Uhura snapped, and when she Star just shrugged she slammed her hands beside the padd and asked again through clenched teeth.

"Kirk made it up to Spock by giving him the best sex of his life, and they both loved it. Delicious isn't it? I just watched some of it myself," she licked her lips. "I might have to arrange to be in the middle of it the next time," Uhura shook her head, mouth open slightly. They wouldn't have done it on an away mission, especially one as dangerous as this. Would they? **Spock** _cheated_ on her, anything is possible. "I'll send it to you. Enjoy dear," and she was gone, the after image of her skin and teeth burned in Uhura's mind. Then a video appeared on the screen, obviously a security camera hidden in the wall or something. Spock walked in, already disheveled and half naked followed by a leering Jim who tackled the Vulcan on to the bed. And Spock kissed back, digging those long fingers into Jim's hair. He had never kissed her like that, like if he stopped he'd stop breathing. When Jim tossed their clothes and Spock flipped them over she shoved the padd under the blanket. The sounds they made were enough. She took deep breaths, telling herself it was okay, that it couldn't be real, Star was just trying to-

"Jim," Spock let out in a breathy voice followed by a deep moan. Uhura grabbed the thing and without looking at it chucked it at the wall so hard the screen shattered and the back warped. Her neighbor awoke with a shout. Uhura sat there panting.

Spock had played her. Played her like a _fiddle_.

o)0(o

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><p>o)0(o<p>

"Everything is going as planned my dear. Soon they'll be ripping each other's throats out, and I won't have to."

"That is good."

"It will be your job to give them the final push, to start accusing one another of treachery and deceit. Without you, the plan falls to pieces."

"I will not let you down."

"Good. I do not tolerate failure."

"I know."

o)0(o

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><p>o)0(o<p>

**Bum ba da du dum! I tried to give you all kinds of action in this chapter. Physical action, sexual action, brain frying physiological action… I hope you enjoyed! Just to clear things up a bit, McCoy and Chekov are the only ones who are certain that Spock and Kirk are together (though one is in denial) Sulu and Scotty suspect but they are not sure. Uhura, as you can see, has NO IDEA. So tell me what you think in a little review! I'd greatly appreciate it. **

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	9. An Unrequited Green Substance

An Undisclosed Green Substance

OoooO

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><p>"You must get up," The voice hisses through the air like ten thousand arrows. James Kirk mumbled something in his troubled sleep but did not stir. "Get up," the voice was louder, more firm. Jim twitched, then stopped moving all together. Eye lids flew open, revealing irises stunning in their color. Warm breath blew past plush lips. Gold eyelashes fluttered down over the eyes again before his breath caught in his chest and he flew upwards, beginning to hyper ventilate. Two soft hands gripped his shoulders and shook him, telling him things he couldn't hear. All that he was ere the images passing through his eyes. Becoming Captain of the Enterprise. Failing the Mariu. Meeting Bones. His birthday. His crew on April Fool's day, laughing. His crew getting captured by Klingons and sold into slavery. Spock, kissing him. Spock, making love to him. Spock, strapped to the table and screaming as current blasted through his heart. Spock, gasping water as he is sucked into blackness. Spock, frozen over and crackled in ice. Spock-<p>

There is a whistle of air and a sharp sting on his face and he jerks, the nightmares fading from his gaze. He blinks away the foggy view to reveal Private Roswell extremely close to his face. For a moment he thought it was still a nightmare, she had no idea how much she looked like Star up close. Their right eyes were the same.

"You slapped me," he says and rubs his cheek where surely there is a red hand print.

"Yes," is her blunt reply as she rocks back on her heels. "It was either that or kiss you, and for some reason I believe Spock would not take to kindly to that."

" What-"

"Yes Jim, I know. It did not take Vulcan logic to discern your attraction towards Spock," she gets off the bed, handing him a glass of something that looks and smells like mouthwash. "Drink, it will combat the leftovers of the drugs." Kirk looks at the fluorescent substance warily before scrunching up his face and downing it all. It didn't taste like mouth wash, it tasted like toothpaste. She smiled sadly at his wrinkled brow and cracked her back, grabbing the second glass and moving to the other side of the bed. The room was dim, but as she moved one of the extremely dim lights highlighted the left side of her face, the half that had been turned from him. The one with the warped eye.

"Shit." He said, trying to get out of bed and groaning as his muscles protested. Her fingers jerked up to her cheek and ran along the molted black and purple pattern there.

"Yeah," she said whispered. "Shit." Madeline then moved to Spock's side with a trace of a limp, placing the green glass down on the table and climbing as carefully as she could beside his static first officer. Her deft fingers removed all the wiring from the electrodes that circled his entire body. Kirk had abandoned trying to get up from the bed and simply watched as her muscles twined under skin stained ugly shades of black, purple and green.

"What did they do to you?" he asked as she carefully peeled the electrodes from faintly green skin. At this point, she was the only one he'd let near Spock, let alone touch his bare skin. He trusted her and he knew her intentions were merely to help his first officer.

"She thought I would be the easiest one to break," Madeline spit as she shocked her finger and sucked on it for a moment. "She thought I would snap like a twig." A sideways smile pulled her face into a terrifying expression that reminded him of the very woman she spoke about. "Let's just say she was wrong." Kirk watched in fascination when she pulled the miniature drip from the Vulcans arm, tossing the plastic to the floor and examining the green drop of blood on her finger before wiping it on the pants of her torn and dirty Starfleet uniform. She wasn't wearing the ridiculous outfit he and Spock had been given. Somehow the white shorts were back on his body. He didn't want to ask how.

"How are we going to wake up Spock?" he asked and managed to stand, only wobbling a little on his feet.

"We're not," was her reply as she stood if a bit stiffly, revealing a streak of blood down the side of her uniform that was not red. (It wasn't green either. What the hell was that stuff? Not hers obviously.) "He's in a healing trance after the drugs and... I'll explain in minute. I will wait for it to become less constrictive on his mind before attempting to awaken him." Kirk nodded, which wasn't a good idea. The world shifted and bobbed like they were on a boat in the middle of a hurricane. He wobbled and was about to crash to the bed when two slim hands steadied his elbows and pressed the second glass of the green stuff into his hand. He drank it, and felt better than he had in months.

"What is this stuff?" he said and put the glass down, putting on his gold shirt as she handed it to him. That had not been here last night, had it?

"You'd prefer it if I didn't tell you," she said and passed him his pants and boxers, politely turning away. It had been a long time since he been pants less with a woman, and one had never turned away. He dressed quickly, resisting the urge to tease the shyer private. When he was done and lacing up his boots she crouched next to him.

"I need you to promise me that no matter what happens in the next few hours, you will take Spock and get the hell out. Even if they're plucking my eyes out and breaking my fingers, you go. Understand?"

"Isn't that something I should be saying to you?" Kirk says and continues lacing his boots before looking at her. "They wouldn't seriously do that to a girl." She grabs his face and jerks it towards her forcibly, so their noses are almost touching.

"Listen to me," she hisses. "What you and Spock did last night didn't happen. They initiated a false dream sequence with the electrodes and erotic stimulant drugs. Then Star put me in front of the screen and told me to watch," Jim was dumb struck, mouth hanging open just a little. "When I sent out a distress signal to the Enterprise, Star sent me to fight. If I won, she'd spare Gold and Keller. I killed my opponent, but when I went to the throne room, she showed me both their heads on silver platters, eyes wide open and looking right at me." Her voice cracks. "I am serious."

"Jim?" says a bleary voice from the bed. Madeline gets up and goes to his side, somehow holding another one of those green drinks.

"Drink this commander," she says softly and passes him the glass. Spock downs it without a second thought. Jim watches as the fogginess in his eyes dissipates.

"Thank you Private. May I enquire as to the standard time?" he says and stands, searching for Jim, eyes glowing when he sees him.

"0400 and your clothes are on the table Commander Spock," she says and pulls herself onto the bed, smothering her face in the pillow and covering her eyes with her hand. He is reminded of how young she is. She should not have had to witness such horror. A horror he had brought about by asking those people on the mission. He never should have asked.

"Thank you Private."

Jim watches Spock dress hungrily, but manages to only stroke the silky skin of his commander's back once. This elicits an infinitesimal gasp from Spock who then turns wide brown eyes to Jim in a Vulcan imitation glare. Jim turns to tell Madeline Spock is dressed when he sees her hand relaxed and her eyes closed. Her chest rises and falls evenly and she looks… happy. He'd never actually seen her relax before. Gently as to not wake her he pulls the sheets over her prone form.

"We didn't make love last night Spock," Jim says and turns to him, expecting surprise. Instead he sees cool calculation running through his Vulcan's mind.

"I expected as much. The events did not have the coherency perpetuated by reality, but disjointed hopping of the dream world." Did Spock just say hopping?

"Seemed real to me," Jim grumbled and began picking at the food set out for their consumption. Spock gently links their hands and the corners of his lips turn up the smallest bit.

"Jim, it does not matter whether it was physical or not," Jim grins.

"Maybe-"

"Don't even think about it," comes a sleep muddled voice. Jim turns to see Madeline blinking at him from wear she is curled in the white blankets. Those frightening eyes close before they jerk open again. "I'm sorry I fell asleep, but you should have woken me up. I have something to tell you," She moves to get up but Spock stops her with a look. He picks up the platter of Terran fruit and sit on the edge of the bed, putting the fruit next to him. Jim sits across from him, on the other side of the bed. Madeline looks a little uncomfortable, but it is just a flicker. "Yesterday I sent a signal to the Enterprise. I will not tell you what I said here because they will hear but… expect relocation. Hopefully. But they told me… Jim your next to torture. And you Spock…" her face twists with grief. "They're going to make you watch."

There was a heavy silence. Jim was making dead fish faces, and Spock was well, Spock. Madeline buried herself back in the covers, pulling them up to her chin and hiding her bruises from Spock. Jim hadn't had the time to inform the overprotective man of this development. He opened his mouth to do just that when a door opened in the wall, revealing a blindingly bright hall.

"James Tiberius Kirk," a robotic voice intoned, "Come with us." There was no arguing with the gun strapped over the silver man's shoulder. A green visor flashed as Jim stood, and human lips pursed in annoyance, most likely at his attire. He nodded to Madeline and touched Spock's temple fleetingly, conveying all he felt…

In case he didn't come back.

OoooO

* * *

><p>"Where are we going?" He asks as he follows the guard who he swore was a robot, though he isn't. Jim figured the suit warps his voice lower and robotic.<p>

"Unrequited."

'What are you going to do to me?"

"Unrequited."

"How about your name?"

"Unrequited."

"Maybe…. Hmmm. I am out of questions." No response. Just the heavily booted feet on the white floor followed by Jim's sot padding. He wasn't wearing any restraints, but he knew if he started running he would be shot/tranquilized/whatever the hell they did to run aways here. They had been walking for maybe two minutes when they reached a lift. The guard man stepped quickly to the side, surprising Jim with a sharp crack in the back with the side of the gun. Jim stumbled into the lift and watched the green and silver face blur as the door slid shut and began traveling down at incredible speeds. A seat with an oxygen mask was made available to him, and he guzzled the air as his ears popped. He watched out the side window as Hadron XIII zoomed closer and closer and then disappeared as he went underground. His stomach sank along with his hope. Escaping wasn't going to be possible unless the call got through. And even then he had to wait 7 hours. He could make it that long. He was tough.

OoooO

* * *

><p>"Gah!" he shouted and futilely swatted at the scientist sticking a needle for the eighteenth time into his arm. They hadn't tortured him yet, unless you counted having a physical while magnetized to a table torture, which he didn't. He suffered worse from Bones. Sure they'd stripped him down again and Star was sitting in a chair just in his vision watching him with glittering eyes, and sure they'd taken eighteen vials of blood and skin cells and hair samples. (Even a spit sample, that was peculiar) It seemed like they were finishing up now, scanning his body with giant machines and taking a mold of his teeth and face. Finally they took electronic prints of his hands and feet and they were un magnetizing him and handing him the same white robe that he had been wearing last night… or thought he'd been wearing. Still the thought of Spock's elegant fingers languidly brushing the white fabric off his shoulders set his thoughts in a dangerous direction for not wearing underwear, or pants. Or anything except this hospital garment that he tied tightly around his waist.<p>

"See, that wasn't so bad was it?" Star says and rises, not wearing the silver dress that the sick part of his mind really liked. Her hair is pulled back now, blatantly displaying her other half.

"Not what I was expecting," he says warily, but not aggressively. He isn't stupid, and today she's carrying a phaser like none he's seen before. It looks almost like a sleek cane, except the handle where you'd rest your weight is not as close to ninety degrees. And of course, there is a trigger on the silver monster.

"Good. Now follow me, I have a surprise for you," and she placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and pushed him across the room and down another hall, into a small room with a glass wall. On the other side of Sat Spock in a chair. He had a thin cut down his cheek and black/green bruises on his neck. Green blood dotted the corners of his mouth. Jim stopped in his tracks, eyes burning. He turned to throttle Star, but she was behind the clear door. "He fought the testing, realized what it was for." She tisked softly with a terrifying smile. "Now, he gets to watch you take his punishment." Spock jumped to his feet, but was pulled back into the chair, cuffs on his wrists and ankles slamming down, his neck cracking sickeningly to the metal chair by his collar. Jim pressed himself up against the glass, slamming his fists into the barrier, before he was pulled all the way across the room and slammed into the far wall. His robe lay forgotten on the floor.

A man with the physique of a warrior came at him first. His practice coarsened hands took Jim's hair roughly in their grip.

Then their lips were pressed together. Kirk fought it, twisting away but the man just seemed to like that better and bit his neck. For a moment Kirk saw Spock, and the look in that man's eyes was enough to break his heart.

Why couldn't they have sent the women? He thought to himself as fingers ran all over his body as more men joined. Why did it have to be the army? Maybe it wouldn't hurt Spock as much even as he felt himself grow hard from rough play. The hands began to knead his shoulders and back, and legs, and chest. They started easy, letting him get used to it, but these people weren't here for easy. Kirk had closed his eyes a minute ago, pretending the lips on his own were Spock's. That was about when the fingers touched the inside of his leg, close to his crotch. He jerked in surprise and realized what the restraints were for. The man with the dark hair left his lips then, and made his way down his throat, pinching the skin with his teeth. Kirk tried to muffle the sharp intake of breath as the same process was repeated all over his body. There were faint gasps from the crowd followed by a wave of cool air quickly replaced by… oh god he did not want to know what but it felt damn good and he hated himself for thinking so. He simply strained against the restraints threw his head back as his eyes rolled up in his head and moaned, much to the satisfaction of the men. Probably about then was when the riding crop came down for the first time, and he was not expecting it. A prickled cry escaped his lips before he could stop it, and Star giggled. The riding crop kept coming down, but he barely noticed. It'll be over faster. It'll end soon, it has to end soon.

Finally, the new form of torture ceased and he collapsed limp against the cuffs that dug into his wrists. He didn't even notice that he was alone, nor at this point did he care. Bruises were already blooming like poison flowers all over his skin, their stems the welts and their seeds the hickeys up and down his body. His breath came in hot wet gasps, and his hair fell limply across his forehead. His eyes trailed upwards to meet the desperate ones across the glass. New bruises were forming around the rings that restrained his first officer, and a single drop of emerald blood ran down his chin. Kirk's vision was swimming but he managed to make out those plush lips as they formed the words.

"I am sorry Jim. Exponentially sorry."

And then he blacked out, pain and shock and the left overs from his induced orgasm forcing him under.

Spock watched in horror as Star herself entered the room after Jim had fallen unconscious. She waited 2.5 seconds before running her fingers over his muscles with clinical precision, checking the bruises and of which there were thirty nine, approximately. Finally she turned to Spock as the rooms rotated, Him now looking at Jim's profile .

"You did this to him Spock. You should have just let us take the samples and scans. Jim did," she smiles at the Captain lovingly, combing the hair back from his forehead. Spock shudders in his restraints. "It didn't have to be so tough for him. Five men! Even I'm impressed he made it through." She sighs and then does something that will haunt Spock forever. She kisses Jim, just quickly, cool metal lips and blood flash ones entwining with the man he loved. She steps back, grins, and struts out, mocking him with every motion.

OoooO

* * *

><p>"Do they suspect anything?"<p>

"No. Nothing."

"They have no reason to. You are doing a spectacular job."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, there is still one more thing you have to do…."

OoooO

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><p><strong>Hey Guys! I just wanted to post this before I go away for 2 weeks. No computers, no internet, so this will be my last post for a while. Don't kill me! I'm sorry, but the next update probably won't be for two-three weeks, depending on my ability to write when I return. Sorry about not rescuing them yet, that chapter is going to be long… and you'll meet the carnivorous kangaroo's promised in the first arc. ANYWAY, thanks to all my readers, alerters, favoriters, and REVIEWERS! You make me all tingly. Special thanks to,<strong>

**RubyHair!**

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**You guys rock!**

**See you in 2 weeks!**


	10. We Meet the Rabid Kangaroo

"There are some things in the universe that you cannot undo. Things you cannot un-see. Things that you want to regret but cannot, for if you do your life becomes a wasteland fit for the creature of hate and malice you have become. There is a poison in the universe, a sickness they call power, and greed snatches it from the very air and will not let it go. I, unfortunately, have both those things. Instead of denying them, fighting them like most beings, I embraced them and used my gifts to my advantage," she laughs sadly. "Look all it's gotten me!" she waves her hands at the air around her, turning to face Madeline. "An empire, a people who will die for me if I kill for them, wealth," she shakes her head. "Some days I am even happy." She turns back to the window, looking down upon the arena hands clasped firmly behind her back reminiscent of the way Spock himself does it. "Most days I look out the window and miss the little girl who wanted a kitten and played with her sister. Most days."

Then Star is gone, taking her silver rifle and red coat with her.

"What the hell?" Jim says and opens his eyes. Madeline rushes to his side, helping him sit up and bracing his back against the cool steel wall.

"She does that," Madeline says cryptically as she hits Jim with a provided hypo, a stimulant. The bruises are already fading from his skin, Star's injections speeding the body's heeling tenfold. Jim blinks once, twice, and then his eyes go bright.

"Woah," he says and sits up straighter, then stands up and begins to pace. "Woah, this is some good shit! What the hell is this stuff?" He asks and looks at her, eyes going from bright to wild. The captain resorts to swearing when mental functions slow but physical functions increase.

"A physical stimulant of some sort provided to us for the coming battle." Madeline intones and stabs her own neck, wincing as the medication is injected into her blood stream. Her own black eyes grow hot. "We will need it, trust me."

One side of the metal wall slams open, filling the small space with the roar of a crowd and the blinding light of near noon day. The pair shields their eyes and enter the arena, Jim jumping when the door slams closed behind them. Madeline has already experienced this, so to her it is nothing new.

The arena itself was the size of a large football stadium back on Earth, the seats soaring up into the sky and massive screens dotting the walls. Through instead of locker room doors there were massive steel walls that slammed open and closed, revealing their contents. The crowd seemed to be choosing which beast they were going to sick on the two star fleet officers in the sand box of hell. For it was hot, really hot. The sun beat down from an angle that said it was not quite eleven. Madeline checked her watch, and then the sun.

"They started earlier than I thought. We need to make it ten minutes. You can do that right?" she looked at Jim, but he wasn't paying attention. He was looking up at the platform that hovered near the back of the arena, where Star sat with her advisors and the head of big Hadron XII corporations. Next to her sat Spock. Well.

Spock was in a clear box, of what seemed to be reinforced plastic. He was wearing his Starfleet uniform again. Fresh blood dripped from a twin slash on his face. The mucky mucks were oohing and ahhing over him, pressing greedy fingers to the walls and pointing out certain features. Star seemed to be doing brisk business in the slave trade.

"LAAAAAAAAAAAADIES AND GENTLLLLLLLLLLLLE MEN MEn Men men!" screamed the announcer into the microphone. His almost plastically perfect face appeared on all the big screens, white hair slicked back in a way reminiscent of Elvis. Actually, the microphone he was using seemed reminiscent of Elvis. "WELLLLLLLLLLLLLLCOME TO THE 89th ANNNNNNNNNNNUAL HUNT HUNt HUnt Hunt hunt!"

That did not sound good. Jim looked at Madeline, who was practically twitching from the drugs. Her pupils were blow all the way to the edges of her irises and on closer inspection, her hands were twitching. She began jogging in place.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jumped sky high, spinning and opening her mouth and a snarl the likes of which he had only seen on Spock's face. The little bit o' Vulcan was showing through. When she saw who it was her face broke out into a wicked grin.

""I'm fine!" she said in a high decibel in and higher pitch. "Completely fine!"

"Yeah…" Jim said and looked back up towards Spock, his face hardening. He'd kill whatever they through at them with his bare hands if necessary to get back to Spock.

"WEAPONS ONS ONs On sons!" echoed the voice, and two glittering silver spears popped out of the ground. Madeline snatched hers out of the air in sync with Jim. He tested it out on his pinky's fingers pad and watched the single drop of blood make its way across his slightly ridged skin. He wiped it off on his star fleet shirt. It had been gold at one point, now it was stained brown with his blood. "RELEASE EASE EASe EAse Ease ease…" the crowd drew in a breath_. Now we get to see what's going to kill us_, Jim thought. _Joy_. "THE KANGAR!" The crowd detonates in a vicious explosion of noise, jumping to their feet and screaming. A door opened, revealing the dark chamber that housed what Jim expected to be a large Kangaroo with fangs. That's not what he got.

A long forked tongue flicked the air like a whip, the black leathery appendage slapping against the metal with a wet smack. Two eyes came next, small and yellow that didn't seem to see much at all. The tongue flickered again and then came the Kangar. It was the size of an elephant but had the body of a grey hound. If gray hounds were top heavy, and hairless, and coated in a thin layer of _something _that made the gray skin glitter silver. They were obsessed with metallic silver on this planet. It growled, revealing two fangs that matched its vicious claws and spiked tail that whipped back and forth like an angry cats. It's ears were holes in its skull that matched its flaring nostrils which snuffled the dirt . It's head snapped up though, and it was looking right at Jim.

"Damn," he swore in a whisper. Madeline just swore, then jumped forward at a run, spear gripped expertly in her hands. "Damn." He repeated, and charged after her.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>After they removed Jim from my presence I was knocked unconscious. For how long I do not know, and it is disconcerting. Normally I know the time to the second, but after three induced sleep cycles over the past twenty four hours; my internal clock is in shambles. This does not allow me to know how much time must pass before we are evacuated from this abominable planet with and ignominy of a ruler.<p>

It was her face I awoke to, even if it was through reinforced plastic. She had smiled and stood after I revealed my state to her. The words she spoke to those around her were garbled, as if underwater. However, I pride myself on my ability to read lips and was able to cognize most of the following conversations.

"The sleeping beauty has awoken," she said with a smirk, and a laze back on her throne.

"You were not exaggerating the depth of his eyes. Intriguing," says a man with eyes the color of radio activity. They must be implants; it is not possible for a human's eyes to be that color. "Too bad he is in this box and I cannot examine him fully." I do not want to follow that train of thought.

"He would kill you quicker than your guards could process the thought to shoot him," says a woman with black hair that seems to extend into the beyond.

"We like fighters back home," says the green eyed man and runs his tongue over his lips. "How much?" he turns to Star. She shrugs.

"How much do you think he's worth?" she asked with a sharp smile. The man was beginning to tread in dangerous territory, with a 73.9% chance of failing. Star was an anomaly, and in another circumstance fascinating to observe. But not today. I converted his focus to that of the arena, and watched with sad eyes as Jim and Roswell were revealed to me. Both were jittering with stimulants and tension. Jim's previously gold uniform was soaked in his blood, though it had dried brown.

"I still don't know what you see in the Vulcan. Yes, he's rare. But the human, now I'd offer up a price for that bod- I mean beauty." I ignored that comment. I did until she said something after that was 43.2% more vulgar than anything Jim had said in my presence. I span on her slamming my hands into the plastic and, I admit to it, snarled.

They all laughed.

At this point they released the beast that would try and digest his coworkers. Not knowing the exact origin of the creature, but making judgments based on its physical attributes the chance of both of them surviving five minutes was 37.8%.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>Charging the monster had not been one of her better ideas, but she had lost some precious brain cells to the drug. She had expected the beast to at least be a little surprised and maybe shy back. Instead it tongue whipped out, slamming into Jim and throwing him back maybe ten feet where he crashed to the sand with a skid and a loud shout. He laid there, breath coming in rapid bursts.<p>

"The tongue is poison!" She shouted, maybe a little too late. She had forgotten about that.

"Oh, you think!" Jim shouted as he struggled back to his feet, using the spear as a crutch. It had only touched the skin on his wrist, but that was already turning purple. At least it didn't spread.

Madeline focused back on the beast. It seemed to be ignoring her, going straight for Jim. Why, she didn't know. Yet. She would figure it out. Sooner or later.

She hefted her spear as the silver creature tore past her. She slammed the tip into its thigh and was rewarded by a spray of black ichor across her arm and legs. The beast turned and snapped at her, its jaws narrowly missing her face. The spear dislodged itself from its flesh, but skittered away on the other side of the monster. It growled, but its head swung back towards where Jim was waiting for it.

Jim through his spear, and it slammed into the things shoulder. Black blood exploded over the sleek skin, but the creature wasn't even phased. The spear remained stuck in the flesh, doing a rapid dance as Jim realized he was suddenly weaponless and ran. The Kangar kept pace easily, toying with him. Dancing in front and behind the Captain of the enterprise. The crowd went wild, stamping their feet and screaming. Finally, the creature got bored. It's tongue snapped out and wrapped around Jim's ankle, tripping him up so he sprawled on the sand. He tried to get away, but two car like paws slammed on either side of his shoulders. The tongue flicked across Jim's torso, and the thing made a slurping sound. Jim looked blatantly terrified, as was human. The tongue came down again, and that is when it hit her. The blood. It was attracted to the dried blood. If it liked the dried blood then…

She looked at the sun, and where Spock was slamming himself against the plastic as the jaws came down on Jim's neck.

"Damn it all," she said and stooped snatching up her spear.

"HEY!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The teeth didn't snap around Jim's neck. "HEY!" The beast turned to her, growling. She placed the metal on her upper arm, and slashed. Blood burst across her skin and she gasped at the pain as the hot liquid rolled over her arm. The Kangar moved away from Jim, its beady yellow eyes boring into her, long black tongue flicking the air.

She was going to die.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>I watched in horror as the beast approached Jim, and when he was nearly to death I forgot my composure and throw myself against the wall, knowing there was a 0.000001% chance of it breaking but trying anyway. Then, Private Roswell does something, and the beast looks at her. Suddenly there is blood, pouring from a wound in her arm, soaking her shirt and dripping from her fingers. It runs red and bright until it hits the sand, going dark. The rate of loss is 7.84 times greater than a human should be able to withstand for longer than two minutes, but she remains conscious even as the Kangar lopes over to her side, poison tongue slithering between ropes of saliva hanging from its maw. Its jaws close around her ankle and she opens her mouth in a scream. Jim is lying on the ground panting, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets as his antibodies fight the poison invading his system at a rate I wish not to elaborate on. I am trapped in a clear box about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Even Jim would say things did not 'look good'.<p>

That is when the buzzing starts in my ears. High and whining it gets louder and louder as my existence thins before my eyes. I watch in awe as my Captain and Private Roswell are surrounded by the glow that means the transporter was working. It was not a smooth transition, the pain immeasurable, but the sight of the landing pad beneath the bone of my cheek and the sprawl of my limbs was the second best thing I've ever seen.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>"Get three stretchers in here stat! I don't care who you have to toss out of them, just get them in here or I'll toss you out of the air lock!" he would too. He had never seen a landing party come back so broken."Jim? Can you hear me Jim?" The pointy eared bastard managed to open one eye to see the response. There wasn't one, just the twitch of an eye lid to prove the man was alive at all. McCoy swore and jabbed him with three different hypos, then moved to the private. She was the worst off, nowhere near conscious thought and blood still oozed from multiple wounds. He leg was twisted at an angle that screamed wrong, and where her left eye should be there was just a bloody hole. Hypos weren't going to cut it here, this was more than a poisoning and drug overdose. He slapped the hypos in anyway, and sent the red alert to emergency surgery. She was going in now. He cut off the flow of blood from a massive slash on her arm, different from all the other wounds. The stretcher appeared and she was loaded on, whisked away with only a nod from McCoy. They would stabilize her and then he would deal with the eye. And leg. And Arm. He wouldn't think about losing her.<p>

"Mungh?" said Jim, and McCoy watched the dead come back to life as an extremely battered Spock rose to his feet and stumbled over to his side.

"How the hell do those green blooded elves not _die_?" Asked McCoy as he joined the pointy eared fiend at his best friends side. "Don't move Jim, I don't know how bad the damage is. Knowing you, you're probably going to have an allergic reaction to the poison. Or the antidote. Or both." Bones turned to Spock. "You shouldn't be moving either," and jabbed the green blooded hobgoblins neck with a hypo. Spock put a hand over the spot, mouth open to say something when his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the side. It would have been funny, had this situation left any room for funny.

"Bones?" said Jim, or that is what McCoy thinks he said.

"I'm right here Jim, everything is going to be okay." Then he jabbed him in the neck with another hypo.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>The away mission had been a disaster. The message she had sent through about the spies hadn't reached Jim at all, though it didn't matter, Star had killed them anyway. If they had even been spies at all. As it turns out she had been talking to Star with a voice filter. That led her to check up on the video she received, and found it heavily falsified. (Thank God) Spock had been the least beat up, from severe bruising, internal bleeding, lacerations and a microchip implant. Then came Jim with a drug overdose, poisoning from some obscure creature called a Kangar, (which was not in fact a rabid Kangaroo), Three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, lacerations, bruising, bleeding… he looked pretty bad, though he gave orders just fine after the hypos wore off. His first was to get the hell out, which had been done the second they were beamed up. Without Chekov it might not have happened, for the secret message had been sent in some obscure computer code Spock probably didn't know but the private had been discussing it with Madeline the day before she left. Speaking of which, Uhura hadn't seen the private. No one had except McCoy and he wasn't letting anyone else in. She was unconscious though, so that didn't really matter. Uhura had heard tales of what had happened to the poor girl. Eight poisoned puncture wounds, broken leg in three places, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, lacerations, blood loss… She also heard that the poor thing had lost her left eye, which had already been damaged in the transport down. Something had been wrong with her arm too, though no one knew exactly what except Jim, and when you asked him he got this ghostly look in his eye and pretended to fall unconscious.<p>

The crew was still antsy though. All had been affected by Star and her messages, whether personal or the big message of sending back two of the most important members of the crew in near pieces. Trust was missing now, and it saddened her to watch even Chekov look over his shoulder before he got in a lift. She just hoped the crew could get over it.

Even if she was going to have a rather lengthy talk to the acting captain once they got off shift.

o0O0o

* * *

><p>"I am so proud of you, Madeline." The girl was alone in the med bay; it was nearly two in the morning standard time. The on shift doctor was asleep in her office, the door shut and the blinds down. Still she had pulled the barrier curtain across her bed and spoke in low tones, the volume of her pad turned way down. She had gotten so far for them to catch her now. "Though I am sorry about your eye, that was never supposed to happen." Madeline touched the silver orb that had replaced her real eye. The vision out of it was still a little foggy, but she'd get used to it. She smiled wanly, responding,<p>

"Now we look even more alike." Star laughed lightly and smiled. "They suspect nothing you know. Not even an inkling of suspicion as to where my loyalties lie."

"Good, good. We worked hard to get it that way didn't we? But I got all the data I needed, and all the raw materials." She smiled. "Do not be surprised if there is suddenly more than one of the Commanding pair of the Enterprise in the universe."

"I'll make sure they don't realize how fast the clones can be made. As you said though, Spock knows what the data was for, even if Jim did not realize. He has already informed the man of this development."

"I expected that. I orchestrated this entire excursion. Soon, I will control them and after, Starfleet itself."

"I have every faith in your abilities Star, though we do make quite a team."

"We do, though now I must go. Live long and prosper, sister dear."

"Live long and prosper sister."

o0O0o

* * *

><p><strong>Bum ba da dum bum! Sorry that I took so long to update, but I explained my reasons last chapter so you cannot hate me too much. Right? Right? <strong>

**Anyway, this arc is over. Or is it? But we won't be seeing star or her sis madeline for a chapter or too, though I have big plans for our commanding pair of the enterprise. Big plans I say, and I'm excited to put them to use. **

**Thank you to all who have stuck with me and read this fic over the past weeks I've been absent. Thank you to all those who favorited and alerted, and special thanks to **

**Rain Dancer 2! Hopefully you are less confused…. **

**Ruby Hair! Who is utterly wonderful for reviewing almost every chapter!**

**Burning Phoenix! You got ur wish!**

**Magpie 1600! You are still getting praised! Even though star didn't die. Yet…**

**Sai518! There is more to come to Jim….**

**Thank you and good night!**


	11. Marry, Kill, F uh, er

**You hate me. I know you hate me. I haven't updated this for probably four months, but i had no idea where to take it, so i went with the classic with my own twist. and i will keep it t. barely. **

**Merry Christmas!**

**Warning:Swearing**

"Spock…?" came a mulled voice from the bed across the med bay. Two green ears twitched as McCoy watched from where he had collapsed in a chair, cup of something in his hand, he didn't care what it was at this point. Maybe it was coffee, maybe it was brandy. He'd prefer the second.

Spock turned and walked to Jim's side, the man was just coming to and mumbling incoherently, before blue irises dropped their cloud cover and he smiled dopily up at Spock before pain washed over his features.

"Damn, what happened?" He rubbed his temples and McCoy should probably go over there, but Jim could take worse than this. A little head ache would help his character. Even if Spock was looking at him, was that pleading? Something was going on other than their usual sexual tension, something Jim obviously wasn't aware of because he was trying to lace their fingers together. With a grunt a few well-placed curses McCoy managed to get out of the chair and hobble to Jim's side.

"What hurts kid?" he asked as he pressed the back of his hand to Jim's forehead, frowning, and grabbing the tricorder, over his friend's body. It beeped at him, confirming his fear.

"My head, and is there a reason my fingers and toes are tingling? I think I was better yesterday," Jim's face scrunches up in pain.

"You're running a fever kid, I have no idea how you managed to say, let alone think through orders yesterday. The drugs and the poison really screwed you over, one or the other would have been fine, but together it's like acid running through your veins." Jim's eyes went wide in his 'adorable. It's adorable Bones,' puppy face, and _please_ say he imagined Spock licking his lips like some hungry hobgoblin. "You'll live. You just have to stay here for a few more days so I can make sure you do and I can get all of it out of your system, Now," he smacked a hypo into his neck and Jim squeaked and slapped his hand to his neck, glaring menacingly at Bones. "That'll take care of the fever. Jim," Bones put on his serious face. Spock shifted his stance so he projected the air of a Commander, and not a lov-boyfr-gah he hated this. "Jim you need to tell us what happened with Madeline. If not as Captain, then as your friends we need to know." Bones put his hand on Jim's upper arm and squeezed. The shutters had come down across his friends face. This was usually reserved for questions about his childhood and teenage years, and regarding the scar on his back. Unlike those questions though, this received an answer other than one that involved a lot of cussing and consumption of alcohol.

"I, well, and then she, she just," an incoherent answer none the less.

"Jim, it is alright. You must try an answer comprehensibly." That was the first time Spock had spoken in lee of giving orders since they returned torn to shreds. The man in question took a deep breath and started over.

"I was about to die. The Kangar or whatever it was called had tossed me around a little bit, and was about to bite down on my neck. The thing was huge, I mean I felt its breath on my face and I knew I was a goner. And then Madeline, Madeline must have figured out it was attracted to blood, and she just cut open the top half of her arm," he covers his eyes with a hand. "The thing left, didn't even hesitate. Just jumped after her, and there was so much _blood_. It was everywhere, on her hands, on her neck and on her face and then the thing just grabbed her leg and started shaking her and I couldn't do a thing about it. She didn't even scream," Kirk sucks in air through his nose then takes his hand from his eyes, which were squeezed closed in pain McCoy couldn't fix. "I'm the Captain, I'm in charge. It should be me lying on that cot half dead and missing an eye, not a girl who shouldn't even be allowed to join the military," his voice is quiet. "She made the cutoff date by three days. Three damn days."

O0o0O

"Jim," Came a soft voice from across the med bay, and the man in question looked up from his padd. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Deep and rolling, like the bottom of the ocean.

"Spock, this is a pleasant surprise." He dropped the slim glass and metal object to his lap, revealing the gently scrolling text he had been reading, and forgotten to pause, when Spock stepped from the shadows. "Oh God Spock, you look terrible."

He received a raised eyebrow for that comment, and Jim's face warmed. "Eur… I uh… I didn't mean it that way. You just look really tired." Spock's lip twitched sideways in what Jim thought was the beginning of a smile. Wow. His first officer must be halfway to death.

"It is all right Jim. I understood your connotation. I have not slept or eaten since our return from Hadron XIII. This would logically lead to my rather fatigued appearance." The man took three long strides across the room to stand by Jim's bed side. Another wow was appropriate for the situation, as Spock had just called him Jim. Twice.

Jim raised both his eyebrows at Spock for that comment. "You haven't slept? Why not?"

Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed like Spock flinched. It had to be the half-light playing tricks on him.

"That is why I am here now. Doctor McCoy suggested that I visit you and… talk about it. He seems to believe that I am having nightmares, which is not a sound diagnosis because Vulcans do not dream, let alone have nightmares," Jim watched Spock rationalize his fear of sleeping through his dark, human eyes.

"Did you try right after?" Spock nods sharply, not meeting Jim's eyes but looking right over his head, brow faintly scrunched as if he was looking at some interesting specimen.

"It was not a sound decision. There were too many duties to attend to, now that I am acting Captain, as well as the head of the science department. Vulcans can function off very little sleep." His voice was tight, so under his control Jim was afraid Spock would break his jaw before his control snapped.

"Spock," Jim said softly, patting the bed in an indication that his first officer should sit. The half-Vulcan made no move to do so, until Jim shifted his jaw and his face altered into his command sequence. Spock almost sighed, and Jim watched him catch his reaction as his elegant legs bent beneath him and the bio-bed dipped under his weight. "You keep denying it Spock, but you are half human." He puts a strong hand on his first officer's shoulder, and he watched with mild horror as the back literally crumples before him and Spock loses his perpetually exquisite posture.

"I realize this Jim." And in those words is all the conflict, all the pain from the last few days wrapped into a neat little sentence. Jim wants to see the beautiful man's face, but he is turned away from him, and all he can do is keep pressure on the elegant back.

"What have they been about Spock?" it is the 'I don't want to startle the rabid animal' tone that washes down those pointed ears.

There is silence in the private room in the sickbay, excluding the gentle whirring of the air unit.

"Everything," Spock's voice cracks, and Jim's heart is literally shattered into a thousand pieces. "I see everything; experience it again and again in excruciating detail." Jim gropes down the black clad leg and grabs Spock's hand, but there is no reaction. "Sometimes they are in sequence, sometimes not, but every time I close my eyes…" He hears a long intake of breath, but cannot see it because Spock is still facing away from him. "Your raping is there full clarity. And how I could not protect you."

He hadn't told Bones about that, and didn't plan to any time soon. It was the one thing he wasn't going to talk about. Ever. Except with Spock, because obviously the man was tearing himself to pieces over it.

"Spock, look at me." There is a long pause.

"That would not be wise Captain." Is the low response.

"Spock," desperation filters in Jim's voice. "Please." There is no movement. Jim releases the elegant hands and takes Spock's chin in gentle fingers, turning his head so blue eyes meet endless brown ones. The circles underneath are like two green hued bruises, but that isn't what scares Jim. Moisture glitters on the edge of those glorious brown eyes, and Spock looks away in shame.

"I am sorry Jim."

The man shifts to get up, but before he can Jim grabs Spock's hair and pulls his face down so their lips meet. It is a clumsy kiss, but the love and desperation bleed easily through. Their second kiss is much more controlled, and heartbreakingly gentle as Jim takes Spock's lower lip into his mouth. The soft pressure burns in Jim's blood, and he wants to be closer, he want to be so close they never have to leave each other. Spock's fingers brush over his and Jim opens his hand to him kissing him in the Vulcan and human way at the same time.

He moves his lips quietly, reveling in Spock's warmth and softness. A hot tongue begs entrance and he allows it, letting Spock shift closer so now he's pressed up against the back of the bed and Spock is straddling him. The easy exploration is turned into a fierce desire edged with need. Jim gladly obliges Spock, glad that he feels he can make the first move toward heat.

Then he feels something shift, and suddenly Spock is biting his lips, his hands are digging their nails into his back and the press of his hips is greater against Jim's, who lets out a faint moan when those thin hips grind against his own. He didn't mind of course, but the fact he got Spock to kiss him at all in such a public place shows something had to be a little off. Especially since now he was trying to get Jim out of his shirt. Jim was nearly recovered, but he couldn't have sex yet, Bones had made a point to tell him that 'extensive activity. Yes Jim, that includes sex,' wouldn't be feasible for a few more days.

He forced himself to pull away from Spock, who tried to come back after him and he had to crane his neck to prevent it.

"Spock," he panted. "We can't do this yet. I'm," His train of thought was broken as Spock began working his neck. "I'm not ready," he gasped, arching up under Spock as those elegant hands trended downwards. "Spock," he said, voice slightly sharper, commanding. His first officer's face broke away from his neck. And for the first time, Jim was a scared of Spock.

The Vulcan's pupils were blown all the way to the edges of his irises, the heave of his collar bone and there was a feral twist of his lips and hood to his eyes, which conflicted sharply with the straining control evident in the sharp line of his tendons in his neck and the hopelessness in his eyes.

"I can't," he choked out before plush lips came crashing down on his again. Jim tried to struggle away, but iron hands grabbed his wrists and forced them above his head.

"No," he snarled, and that did not sound like Spock. Then his eyes shifted again and Jim saw his Spock. "Pon Farr."

"What's-" but he never finished his sentence as his lips were once again captured. Soft fingers brushed across his hair and he felt Spock reach for the meld points. Jim knew after that there would be no return.

"Jim, I heard some- Oh God damn-it! I told you not to have sex! Why don't you listen to me?" Jim caught sight of a very irritated Bones "You could at least have the decency to stop in my presence Hobgoblin," as he stomped across the room and grabbed Spock's shoulder in an attempt to pull the Vulcan off. Spock turned to him and snarled, and Jim's blood went cold. A shiver racked his body and he tried once more to squirm out of the Vulcan's grip, to no avail.

"Damn," McCoy breathed. "Hold on Jim, keep him from melding with you at all costs! I'll be right back!" Jim wanted to shout after him, but he was a little preoccupied

When Bones reappeared he was totting a hypo and placed it into Spock's neck, pushing it down with a hiss. Immediately Spock's eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed on top of Jim. Bones shifted the heavy weight off and placed Spock beside him instead.

"He said it was Pon Farr," Jim muttered as he pressed the provided gauze strip to his bleeding lip. "What the hell is Pon Farr?" Bones eyes flickered to Jim, a sad smile quirking at his lips. "You know, obviously." Bones snorted.

"I think it's time for you to go on a road trip," Bones drawled and heaved Jim to his feet, supporting the weakened man over one shoulder and proceeding to his office one shuffling step at a time. When Jim collapsed in the seat across from Bones he shot him a lazy smirk.

"You realize I could have walked that right? And I was just too lazy too?" Bones rolled his eyes and shoved the dusty medical (paper!) books aside, revealing a collection much more worthy of sampling.

"Remember, if you tell Scotty where this is I 'accidently' give you the wrong hypo, Right?" Jim nods numbly and gladly takes the glass poured for him, downing the fire in one gulp. It numbed the bruises starting to bloom on his skin.

Uncharacteristically, Bones didn't take a swig.

"So, what is Pon Farr?" Bones just watched Jim for a few moments before lacing his fingers together and sighing.

"Remember when Spock attacked you on the bridge?" Jim nods, wondering what that had to do with Pon Farr.

"Well, keep that in mind."

"Get to the point Bones,"

"Okay, okay, hold your god-damned horses. I'm one of the few human doctors who know about Pon Farr, and don't tell any of the pointy eared bastards because even though I have one under my care, they didn't want me to know _a thing_-" Jim raised an eyebrow at bones playful bitterness and the doctor shook his head to snap himself out of it and clearing his throat awkwardly. "Anyway, old Spock from the alternate future, which induced a minor migraine, told me about it and his symptoms in particular. He said it is a cycle in which 'Every seven years a Vulcan is driven to find a mate' aka, have crazy sex or die trying. They get the blood fever, and they die within eight days of insemination if they don't 'mate'. However, certain stimulants can cause a Vulcan to enter the state early. Spock his particularly delicate physiology, and his Pon Farr is not a regular cycle, and can be induced by trauma of some kind. This includes exposure to rare microbes," Bones shoots Jim a glance. "And extreme stress."

"So you're implying that this is the _second_ time Spock has gone into Pon Farr… with me?" Bones nods at Jim's tentative conclusion.

"There are three ways to get out of induced Pon Farr. To remove whatever caused it in the first place, kill, or fuck. I described what Spock did to you on the bridge to his older self, and some of the symptoms beforehand. After his planet was destroyed, you can believe the grief was unmanageable. He didn't eat, made illogical—no-_illegal_ decisions, and choked you half way to death."

"So he was going with the second option," Jim says, and Bones pulls at his collar.

"Uh… well," Jim raises an eyebrow and Bones shakes his head, downing his drink.

"Anyway, Sarek snapped him out of it. Now however, he's fallen back into it with the stress and drugs from the away mission, but I wasn't sure until he started raping you back in there." Rape. That word had caused all this to begin with. "So we just need to figure out what's causing it this time to force him out of it."

Jim pauses, and turns slowly to Bones.

"That isn't going to be possible."

"Of course it's possible Jim-"

"I'm going to have sex with him," Jim says determinedly, though he isn't meeting Bones eyes.

"No. You can't, not for a week. Not in your condition. He'll kill you."

"Bones, it's just sex. I've done it plenty times before," Bones hands grip his shoulders across the desk, knocking aside his glass and spilling the dregs onto his desk.

"You don't get it. This isn't just some random one night stand, or a two-month relationship, and it's not just crazy sex. What he did to you on the bridge? At the beginning Jim, that wasn't killing. That was the beginning of sex. And he determined you too weak to be his mate, so he tried to kill you instead. And he will meld with you Jim, that's Vulcan sex. And when he does that, your minds will be intertwined _forever_."

Jim gets this determined glint in his eye and Bones knows he cooked. "If I don't he'll _die_ Bones. I can't let that happen." Bones sighs and runs a tired hand through his hair.

"I know Jim. I know. Maybe we could get Uhu-" Jim glares at him and he holds up his hands in defeat.

"Sorry, bad idea. Well, at least wait a day, then we can see what we can do-"

There is a bang and they both jump, turning to the sick bay. The doors to Jim's personal room are sliding closed and Spock stands there, chest shuddering. His plush lips are drawn into a snarl and his eyes flicker wildly. His knees are bent and hands splayed, he looks like he's about to attack something. There is another clatter as the contents of a medical tray are tossed to the floor. Spock pauses and closes savage eyes, drawing in a deep breath. His head snaps in their direction, and McCoy chooses some colorful swear words to describe their predicament. Jim grabs the communicator off Bones's desk.

"Captain to Bridge."

"We read you Captain."

"Lock down the medical bay. Yellow alert."

"Yes sir."

He snaps it closed with a flick of his wrist as Spock's hand slams against the now locked door. Through the small window they can only make out his face, and he is looking at Jim like he's starving, and the Captain of the Enterprise is a five course banquette.

"Still feeling so noble?" The pair jerks as Spock slams a fist into the glass, and it holds for the first impact, and even though its reinforced the cracks glittering there tell you it won't hold a second time.

"Shut up Bones."


	12. Stop Thinking About Biological Functions

**Sorry for the long wait! I thank all those who reviewed/favorited/alerted! Real life can be overwhelming at times, and writers block likes to hurt me, but I've done the impossible. A T pon farr. Wow. Patting myself on the back here, feel free to join me! jk lols. That would be a little strange... **

**Enjoy! **

"I can probably fix this," says Bones as he scrambles back around his desk and begins the auto-open sequence on the drawers.

"Probably is not so helpful now," Jim says and takes a step back, his legs biting into the sharp desk as a pale fist slams into the glass again. His assumption had been right; it didn't hold a second time. Evergreen blood spills from Spock's fist and splatters the remaining shards of glass and the door, and the Vulcan doesn't even let out a hiss of pain, not even in his primal state.

That hand reaches through the door, and Jim has to look away as a sharp remnant of the reinforced window drags a long cut into his first officer's forearm, the green blood spilling and swirling down the door.

"Bones," Jim says with increasing urgency and jumps around the desk, grabbing the pointless paper weight there. "Hurry it up now," Jim hefts the paper weight in his hands while watching the fingers grasping for the over-ride switch. Jim was weighing the success rate of fighting a Vulcan in the throes of heat, lacking all logic and exercising all that strength. With a paper weight. The odds were surprisingly good.

Well, until the door slid open, revealing a heaving Spock. His lips were torn in a snarl, and his eyes blazed with a need that resembled blood lust more than sexual desire. The worst was the blood. It was all over his clothes, dyeing his blue science shirt turquoise and his white skin dark green. The blood dripped from his mouth and it was smeared across chin and Jim was almost sick for all the pain he felt for Spock.

His stomach heaved and he doubled over, resisting the need to vomit.

Okay, maybe he was actually sick.

"I found i- oh god Jim, don't throw up in my office!" Jim shot Bones a glare just as Spock vaulted smoothly across the desk, knocking papers into a white cloud around him. Jim scrambled back again, and Spock didn't even notice as Bones practically threw himself out of the way and behind the Vulcan.

He began advancing towards Jim, still bleeding profusely from the cut on his arm, hands curled into claws. His eyes were so narrowed the only color in them was black. Jim slammed into the wall, and Spock was still coming. Then, a voice so dark and primal it was barely more than a growl rolled across the shrinking space between them.

"Mine," It said, and Jim knew Spock was gone.

Then, a hiss and Spock's eyes rolled up in his head. He crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap, Bones standing behind him, empty hypo-spray in one hand.

"What? He's not the only one who can knock someone out like that." Jim rolled his eyes and sunk down the wall, feeling on the verge of going unconscious himself.

"Bones," Jim groaned, trying to put his hand to his head but he couldn't seem to find it. Suddenly his chief medical officer was at his side, talking to him, yelling at him, shaking his arm but he could barely feel it. The whole room was spinning and he turned his head to the side and vomited on the floor. There were two Bones, then four, then two again, and he was talking into his communicator, probably shouting, but it was just a refracted echo that made no sense. Black tentacles were clawing at his vision, and they wrapped around his eyes and he was nothing.

O0o0O

"Murng," Jim said, and he felt like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. However, his head was clearer than it had been in days, and when he opened his eyes, there was only one of everything for the first time in a while. Actually, everything was a lot clearer than it had been even before the incident on Hadron XIII.

"Good, you're awake Jim," Bones appeared in the corner of his eye, coated in light from the ceiling of the med bay. He flashed a light in his eyes and ran the tricorder over his skin as Jim tried to sit up, and was surprised that Bones let him. And his head didn't spin, which was a miracle in of itself.

"Bones," he said in amazement, turning his hands over before his eyes. "You are a magician."

"Well, not quite Jim, but could you say that again while I record it?" Jim rolled his eyes and swung his legs out of bed, watching Bones to make sure he wasn't over stepping his suddenly loose boundaries. "But in all seriousness, you were really in a pickle there kid. Your blood really had turned to acid. So I pumped it out. That's why you're feeling so chipper. You have totally new red stuff running through your veins." Jim jumps to his feet, hand mid motion to make a comment when suddenly the world turns upside down. Bones saves him from a hard fall, lowering him back into the bed.

"Whoa there Jim. You're still not one hundred percent, even with the ultra-oxygenated goo I pumped in you. We had to grow it first, and that took twenty-four hours. You've been out for nearly thirty hours total."

"Thirty hours…" Jim trailed off, knowing he should remember something. It hit him like the entirety of the Enterprise and the world span but this time it wasn't from him being sick.

"Spock," he said, lurching back to his bare feet and glancing wildly around. "Oh God, Spock."

He was lying on the bed across from him, well more like strapped. His head lolled to the side and his lips were parted slightly and coated with green liquid that could only be his blood. Someone, Bones probably, had changed him out of uniform and a blanket covered his legs, but his chest was bare and mottled with bruises. Remains of three different restraining straps and a pair of metal cuffs lay scattered around him. Bones put a hand on Jims shoulder, but he didn't feel it.

He actually thought his first officer was dead until he flung his head to the side and moaned, neat black bowl cut practically destroyed and sticking out in all directions. His chest rose and feel rapidly, too rapid for it to have been human.

"Spock," he said again, like that would make it better. He watched as the man's back rose off the bed, arms straining at the cuffs as he let out a strangled scream. His wrists were rubbed raw from the metal, and when he screamed again Jim had to turn away. The man was still unconscious.

"I'm sorry Jim. There's nothing I can do for him except keep him under, and that just seems to make it worse, so I let the drugs wear off." Jim looks to Bones, not giving a damn if desperation showed on his face.

"And?" The man just grips his shoulder tighter.

"It was hell Jim. He was lucid for maybe a second, and you know what he- ah, never mind."

"Bones. Don't make me make an order."

"Actually Jim, Scotty is acting Captain…" Jim glares, and Bones holds up his hands. "Sorry." He runs a hand through his hair. "He said to kill him Jim. To sacrifice him before he killed you," Jim's face goes ghost white and he sits heavily on the bed. "But if it makes it any better, the next thing he said involved making you scream so loud the people on Earth could hear it…"

"Not helping Bones." Jim snapped, dropping his head into his hands. "Oh God, he's dying, and I have to have sex with him. And if I have sex with him, I'll die."

"Well…" Bones said, and Jim's head snapped to him.

"Well what Bones?" he gritted out. "We are losing time here!"

"Well… there is no guarantee it would work…"

"Spit it out!"

"We could try a meld. No sexual contact, just mental. That could stave off the fever long enough for you to recover, and for some of his… ferocity to abate."

"Okay. Let's do it."

"What? No snappy comeback about how you like it rough?"

"Shut up Bones. Now get me over there!" Jim shouted, slamming his fist into the biobed. Bones held up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay whatever you say Jim boy. But you have to calm down."

"I am calm!" Bones shot him a look and he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "Sorry Doc, just a tad stressed. My first officer is about to die and I can barely see one universe." The bio bed crunched and shifted as McCoy say beside him and put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I know kid. It'll be okay. Come on," he hefted Jim across his shoulder and they shuffled across the floor, to the chair already placed by Spock's bed side. He sank into it gratefully even though it had only been about five steps it was still a trip. Bones flipped the bio bed at an angle where Spock's hand dangled by Jim's face.

"I hope you know where the fingers go Jim, because I sure don't." Said Bones unhelpfully.

"We've never done this before Bones," he says and places the soft pads where they belong, ignoring the slight stickiness that comes with still drying blood.

"Too much information Jim. Okay, he should come to soon, this about how long it took for the drugs to dissipate last time. His body is literally burning them off, like alcohol." Now that Bones mentioned it, Spock's fingers were extremely warm. No, hot. Almost burning, but pleasant, like a really hot shower.

"Just out of curiosity Bones, how long sense his last dose?" Jim shifted in the chair, moving the fingers slightly. The doctor frowns.

"Fifteen minutes."

There is a grunt from the table, the fingers shift slightly, and Jim is gone.

For a moment his brain is so overwhelmed by the sensation he just blanks, and all there embodies him his burning, burning, consumed by the heat and the pain and the need, and just like it was there it was gone, his brain creating dream like images to deal with the new sensations. What he saw first had to be Spock's mind.

It was glowing, glittering, like a reversed reality where the edges of everything were color and the inside black. The image was almost like an apartment complex, a towering rectangle based structure composed of many other smaller cubes, and little dashes of light that flitted between them, getting progressively brighter until they reached the blinding center, which had to be Spock himself.

Jim became intrigued by the color and shape of the structure after he got beyond the sheer wonderment of it all. There was no other way to describe it other than mind sex, the sheer beauty and enjoyment of sex with the intellectual stimulation of the mind thrown in. Well, he mused to himself, that's what it was, wasn't it?

At the very top, Jim took it as what the world saw, the compartments were perfectly symmetrical and a brilliant cerulean, shimmering in the darkness. This looked entirely Vulcan to Jim, the dashes of light coming in a repeating pattern. However as one went down through the structure the color got greener and more organic, until one reached the bottom and the structure was gold and almost root like in its structure, with little rhyme or reason but beautiful like a fractal, or nature. Shots of blue and gold went through their opposite sections, and Jim wondered if that slight imperfection pushed at Spock constantly.

Suddenly there was a roar, and he turned his metaphysical eyes downward, under the structure and for the first time he noticed it. A roiling sea of red so dark it nearly matched the black that surrounded Spock's mind. It bubbled and frothed and something reminiscent of lightning flickered there.

So that was why Vulcans built their palace of logic. To hold back _that._

As he 'watched' that same sea jumped, and like a giant wave it grew over the structure and came crashing down across the blue Vulcan logic, draining through the perfect cubes and towards the light in the very center of the structure.

It had begun.

A mirror slammed down in front of him, and he two startled blue eyes stared back at him. It had to be his reflection, but as he squinted and looked closer the image did not. Instead it tossed its head back and laughed. White teeth flash and his eyes spark with suppressed humor. This had to be how Spock saw him. That laugh reflected back at him, warped and tinny but noticeably his. Jim turned his head to find another mirror, and then again, and he span around, pressing his palms to the cold glass to find he was trapped in a mirrored room, his 'reflections' stretching into infinity.

He turned forward again, the face that was not quite his grinned back at him. Then it glanced over his shoulder and the eyes got softer, the smile gentler. The lips moved, and after a moment the works reached him.

"Spock, spock, spock, spock…." The whispered replicated and warped themselves, twisting into more of a mumbled hiss than a name.

"You should not have come here." The voice was real this time, and he whirls around to see his refection still standing there, but Spock standing at its shoulder. He was not reflected in any of the other mirrors. "I have tried to contain you here, but my mind is weakening. I can no longer maintain the barriers. Pull out of my mind Captain, or you will be consumed."

"And you'll die Spock," he said it because it was true.

"There is a 99.81 percent chance that I would indeed perish in the blood fever."

"Those are not good odds, even for us Spock." The Vulcan's eyes grow sad, melancholy glowing there like tears on a human.

"I always liked it when you said us, Captain. Leave now, and do not return. The ship-"

"The ship needs you Spock," Jim paused, then pressed his hand to the glass. "I need you." Spock let his head drop in resignation. Then two dark brown eyes rose to his blue ones.

"I am sorry Jim." And the mirrors shattered, raining around him in silver projectiles. He covered his head and closed his eyes instinctively, and when he opened them he was on Vulcan. Wind howled like a lonely wolf, roaring past and carrying a cloud of red dust that caused him to cough and squint. The rocks rose and fell in stunning formations, and the massive sun glared like the evil eye from a yellow sky.

Then the dessert was gone and he was in a Vulcan school, standing alone in the audience hall, hand clutching papers that he let fall to the ground, and Jim was over whelmed with emotions that were not his own. A bitter hopeless and loneliness swamped him and he screamed.

A girl, with cold eyes and colder words that burned like molten led, and the need to kill so thick that Jim nearly choked.

A soft hand on his hair, a softer voice asking what he had done to it and his shame, his quiet shame from cutting it to match all the others because he could stand it no longer.

The council of elders, their old wrinkled faces and his own father sitting amongst them, and hatred, hatred so strong it blinded him and triumph so high he wanted to laugh aloud but for some reason he could not.

A boy rose to take the stand, a cocky boy who did not understand real thoughts beyond petty victory and the thrill of cheating, and Spock's shock of seeing the face of this boy and his ascetic pleasure and Jim's shock at seeing himself there.

The pain. The overwhelming, all-consuming pain that screamed through his veins and his mind and it burned, oh it burned and seared and destroyed him from the inside out and he could not move, he could not breathe because Vulcan was dead. And wickedly, shamefully, the loss of his mother was worse.

The release. The need to get away from the pain. The need to leave his mind, to escape but there was no escape. He had no escape. A punch to a jaw. A hand wrapped around a delicate, throbbing throat. Seeking release. His hands wrapped around dark, warm skin. His lips pressed desperately to dark, plush ones. Seeking release. Hands brushing a hypo filled with a vaccine poisonous to Vulcans. Seeking release. Hands wrapped around the cool metal of a phaser, setting it to kill. Seeking release.

The blades and the lights, they were cloning him, they wanted to clone him. He had to stop the process, if he stabbed his heart it would stop the operation. Seeking release.

They were killing Jim, Jim was screaming, he was screaming and no matter how hard he pulled at the cuffs they would not break.

Jim was going to be killed, the teeth were inches from his Captains neck and no matter how hard he threw himself against the plastic it would not break.

Pink lips on his own. The taste of salt in his mouth, the pressure against his hips.

Mine.

Need.

Need more.

Must have release.

Seeking release.

Release.

Release.

Jim tore himself from the memories, subconsciously realizing they'd sweep his mind away and he'd perish. The sheer power of the emotions was enough to kill him. He opened his metaphysical eyes, gasping and staggering, bracing his hand against the wall, which belonged to that of the Enterprise. He looked up, taking in his surroundings. It was the Enterprise, but it was warped, twisted so he was on the bridge, but there was a cell, and an engine in the corner, and the science labs stretched infinitely to the left.

"Jim," said a voice from the cell and Jim was there in an instant, dodging the consoles and pressing his hand to the walls on either side of the force field.

"Spock," he gasped, looking into calm brown eyes that he suddenly understood. "Spock what is this place?" He said, glancing around. Deep primal instincts were coming forward in full force, and the hairs on his neck were telling him something was watching him. Something that wanted to have him for lunch.

"I'm not sure Jim. I believe it's my subconscious."

"That makes-wait, did you just use a contraction? Twice?"

"I did," Spock said, raising an eyebrow. It hit Jim do hard he actually rocked back on his heels. Spock's eyebrow was human. And his ears were blunt and round and, totally, utterly human.

"You're human Spock."

"Indeed," he said and he grinned. Well, in reality it was a small smile, but for Spock it was closer to an insane grin. The humanness of it was flooring. The man rose to his feet, and the form shimmered for a moment, and Jim could see the back of the cell. "This is my human half Jim, the part not affected by the blood fever. Normally it is kept here, in this cell, but obviously that has backfired." He didn't speak like Spock either, not really, yet it was him. There was no denying it.

"So what are we going to do?" Jim asked, glancing over his shoulder. Something was watching him.

"We are going to do nothing Jim," Said human Spock, sitting back down in the cell. "You are."

"Mine," something susurrated behind him. Jim span on his toes, dropping into a crouch and spreading out his hands, ready for a fight. However, he stood up, brows dropping into a V.

"Spock?" And that was all he got to say.

There was an impact, and he felt the resistance in his bones as they creaked and groaned. He braced himself to hit the cold floor of the bridge we he had become friendly with enough times before, but it never came. Instead he landed on some form of bedding, because it was soft and warm, but he could not see it. All he could see was the vague outline of Spock. The angular monster from the bridge was gone, replaced by the hybrid he loved, still mostly lines, but with a gentle curve to his lips and deep soul-drowning eyes. He was everywhere at once and nowhere at all, when Jim tried to focus on his face it was gone, but he knew it was there.

"Jim," he said, and the word was a whisper and a shout, repeated into infinity and not said at all. "I need you, Jim."

"Spock," he whispered, but he heard it more as a scream. There was pain. He could taste the iron on his lips, but he also tasted copper, like water left in a metal bottle too long. There was heat as well, like heat from a fire along with heat from a warm body, and it was everywhere, yet he was also freezing to stone. There were lips on his, soft and warm and a tongue in his mouth, yet he was crying, and he was so alone. So alone. There was a hand on his hip, and then it was ice, and then it was plasma and he was definitely screaming now but along with being tremendously awful it was so wonderful, because along with all the pain there was love. And he knew Spock was there. He could feel him, even though he could barely see him. He realized half these sensations were his first officers, and that was why his mind was so muddled, because there were two people in it.

"Love," the word was there, rolling like the ocean and burning like a star, sputtering into darkness before detonating like a super nova through his consciousness. It was in Spock's voice. "So this is the sensation," the sentence reverberated between their two minds, getting quieter and louder before stopping along with all the unbearable feeling. It left in its wake a lamentable absence, yet there was a certain peace in nothing.

Out of the blackness came Spock, his Spock, not a mate maddened beast or a human he barely recognized. His science blues were crisp and perfect as they were everyday on the bridge. He held up his hand in the Vulcan salute.

"I love you, Jim." He said and Jim spread his own fingers, pressing their hands together.

"I love you too," he said, and grabbed that hand so stoically distant and pulled their lips together in a soft human kiss.

Somewhere there was a hissing noise, and a sharp prick in his, arm but Spock's Vulcan lips were so warm and he wanted to hold those four little words the man had just said between them forever, because he knew it was extremely unlikely for him to ever hear them again.

"Good morning sunshine," drawled an irritated (what else is new?) McCoy. Jim blinked against the onslaught of sick bay light.

"Five more minutes," he said, rolling over. He fell out of his chair and onto the floor, which woke him up pretty well. Shaking out his hair and trying to regain what little dignity he had left, he straightened his shirt, just as his IV dripped into his eye. He swore and rubbed at his face. Bones was laughing somewhere in the distance. Spock was quiet beside him, hand limp on the edge of the table. Yet somehow Jim knew the worst was over.

Yet he still wouldn't be against sex later…

"Stop thinking about sex Jim." Bones was definitely a secret telepath. He couldn't be that obvious.

"And yes Jim," the good doctor said, rubbing his hands in a towel, "You are that obvious."


End file.
